•NRLF 


Din 


, 

-     -•* 


lilrrarp  u£ 


GIFT  OF 
Benjamin  Ide  Wheeler 


7f3 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  o 


I,  Ivo,  had  no  power  to  ban  or  bless, 

But  was  as  one  withliohlen  by  a  spell. 
Forward  she  fared  in  lofty  loneliness, 
Urged  on  by  an..-miperious  inward  stress, 

To  waste^fair  Eden,  and  to  drown  fierce  Hell. 

Helen  Gray 


207 


Cone. 


THE   PROMETHEUS   OF  AESCHYLUS. 


IN  TWO  PARTS.     PART  I. 


C-*    C  ^-9^0 


/  "••.£*' 


WE  know  distressingly  little,  we  are 
eager  to  learn  more,  of  the  childhood  of 
the  Hellenic  race.  The  Homeric  poems 
offer  us,  as  it  were,  a  glimpse  of  a  land- 
scape seen  by  a  flash  of  lightning.  What 
came  before  and  immediately  after  we 
cannot  discern.  Even  the  picture  itself 
is  avowedly  an  idealized  one.  Uncon- 
sciously, indeed,  the  Homeric  poets  have 
no  doubt  painted  for  us  in  the  main 
their  own  age,  the  men  and  manners 
they  knew ;  yet  they  profess  rather  to 
depict  the  more  heroic  earlier  time,  as 
they  imagine  it  to  have  been.  Such  as 
it  is,  the  picture  remains  indelibly  out- 
lined, beautiful  and  precious  for  all  time, 
but  isolated,  undated,  not  to  be  verified 
by  historical  evidence. 

The  world  is  at  least  several  centuries 
older  when  Herodotus  unrolls  before  us, 
upon  his  crowded  canvas,  the  varied 
scenes  of  Greek  and  barbaric  life  in  his 
own  day,  and  something  like  a  connected 
history  of  civilization  upon  the  eastern 
shores  of  the  Mediterranean  begins  for 
us.  Themistocles  and  Aristides,  Leoni- 
das  the  Spartan  hero-king  and  Pausa- 
nias  the  regent,  Xerxes  and  Mardonios, 
are  the  first  Greeks,  or  foes  of  Greeks, 
whose  figures  and  exploits  are  truly 
familiar  to  us.  As  soon  as  the  sweet- 
tongued  Father  of  History  —  and  fable 
—  begins  to  recount  the  tales  even  of  the 
next  earlier  generation,  we  realize  that 
romantic  tradition  and  poetic  fancy  have 
been  busy  in  the  interval.  The  soften- 


ing  haze  of  the  semi-mythical  foretime 
dims  even  the  very  outlines  of  the  ac- 
counts we  hear  of  King  Croesus  of  Lydia 
and  his  conqueror,  Cyrus;  of  Polycra- 
tes,  the  lucky  despot  of  Samos,  and 
Egyptian  Amasis,  his  timorous  ally ;  or 
even  of  Solon  the  lawgiver,  and  Pisistra- 
tus  the  tyrant,  of  Athens. 

There  is,  perhaps,  no  moment  in  the 
history  of  civilization  more  dramatic, 
more  decisive,  than  the  midnight  before 
the  battle  of  Salamis.  Millions  of  Asiatic 
invaders  have  filled  the  land  from  Ther- 
mopylae almost  to  the  Isthmus.  Attica 
is  overrun  and  devastated.  The  towns 
have  been  sacked,  the  temples  defiled 
and  set  on  fire.  The  Athenian  women 
and  children  have  been  hurried  away  to 
destitute  exile  upon  the  islands.  The 
only  hope  of  the  Greeks  is  in  their  united 
fleet,  and  the  Peloponnesian  admirals 
are  determined  to  scatter  to  their  homes 
when  the  morning  breaks.  Then  the 
desperate  patriotism,  or  duplicity,  which- 
ever it  was,  of  Themistocles  impels  him 
to  send  the  secret  message  to  the  Per- 
sian, bidding  him  blockade  the  straits 
and  cutf  off  the  Greek  retreat. 

On  so  slender  a  thr%ad,  undoubtedly, 
hung  the  salvation  of  Hellas,  and  with 
it,  in  a  sense,  our  modern  civilization. 
But  for  the  miraculous  victory  of  the 
next  morning,  which  frightened  the  cow- 
ardly lord  of  all  Asia  and  half  Europe 
into  precipitate  homeward  flight,  instead 
of  the  glorious  fifth  century  of  Athens 


-—-   L> 


208 


of  JEschylus. 


[August, 


and  Greece,  we  should  have  only  such 
stagnant  monotonous  oblivion  as  now 
covers  the  annals  of  the  hundred  races 
absorbed  into  the  unwieldy  Persian  em- 
pire, the  Russia  of  antiquity  :  — 

' '  Such  whose  supine  felicity  but  makes 
In  action  chasms,  in  epochas  mistakes ; 
O'er  whom  Time  gently  shakes  his  wings  of 

down, 
Till  with  his  silent  sickle  they  are  mown." 

In  such  an  hour  the  Athenians  awoke 
to  the  full  consciousness  of  their  own 
future.  Even  the  second  devastation  of 
their  city  and  land,  in  the  following 
summer,  did  not  check  for  an  instant 
their  assurance  of  complete  and  glorious 
victory.  The  generation  who  beat  back 
the  long-haired  Mede  at  Salamis,  and 
the  next  autumn  at  Plataea,  strode  on 
with  confidence  year  after  year,  from 
that  time,  to  make  the  city  of  Pallas 
queen  of  the  JEgean,  and  the  stronghold 
of  Hellenic  statecraft,  philosophy,  art, 
and  literature. 

Of  this  heroic  generation,  the  first,  as 
has  been  said,  which  stands  out  clearly 
and  fully  seen  in  the  annals  of  Hellas,  — 
the  first,  also,  of  the  three  which  so  dis- 
tinctly divide  the  fifth  century  among 
them,  —  ^Eschylus  is  a  most  fitting  type, 
even  as  Sophocles  was  the  brightest  or- 
nament of  the  Periclean  age,  and  as 
Euripides  reflects  in  his  dramas  the 
breaking  up  of  old  faiths  and  morals 
with  which  the  century  closes. 

Those  awful  disasters  of  480  and  479, 
and  the  truly  miraculous  escape,  after 
all,  from  annihilation  or  slavery,  stirred 
the  life  of  Greece,  even  as  Prussia  was 
born  again  to  a  nobler  existence  amid 
calamities  and  triumphs  during  the  clos- 
ing years  of  Napoleon's  career,  or  as 
England  was  reused  by  the  defeat  of 
the  Invincible  Armada.  Especially  the 
Athenians  of  that  age  felt  that  only  the 
personal  and  almost  visible  presence  of 
the  gods  on  earth,  guiding  the  feeble  ef- 
forts of  men,  could  account  for  the  sig- 
nal vengeance  inflicted  so  instantly  on 
the  presumptuous  and  impious  tyrant 


who  had  desecrated  and  destroyed  their 
shrines.  Herodotus  records,  with  un- 
questioning belief,  instances  of  evident 
divine  interposition  in  those  days,  re- 
lated to  him  by  Athenians. 

In  this  •  conviction  that  the  gods  con- 
trol and  guide  aright  the  fortunes  of 
men,  as  in  many  other  respects,  ^Eschy- 
lus  was  influenced  by,  and  exerted  an  in- 
fluence in  turn  upon,  his  own  generation. 
He  has  no  doubt  whatever  of  a  divine 
justice  presiding  over  all  earthly  events. 
That  is  for  him  the  one  clear  and  evi- 
dent truth  amid  all  the  vicissitudes  of 
man's  life.  Indeed,  his  own  boldest  pic- 
tures of  retribution  for  presumptuous 
guilt  must  have  seemed  to  him  but  faint, 
far  reflections  of  that  tremendous  drama 
for  which  his  own  land  had  been  the 
stage. 

The  latest  method  of  studying  the  lit- 
eratures of  the  past  is  borrowed  from  the 
natural  sciences,  and  its  aim  is  to  trace 
the  evolution  of  rudimentary  into  more 
elaborate  forms.  The  .  same  difficulty, 
however,  baffles  us  in  the  case  of  the 
Greek  drama  as  with  so  many  other  lit- 
erary developments.  The  masterpieces 
in  each  kind  have  so  entirely  supplanted 
the  ruder  works  of  an  earlier  time  that 
these  latter  have  perished,  leaving  hardly 
a  trace  behind  them.  Thespis,  who  "  in- 
troduced the  first  actor,"  is  almost  as 
empty  a  name  to  us  as  Arion,  the  inven- 
tor of  the  dithyrambic  chorus,  or  Or- 
pheus himself,  the  discoverer  of  the  lyre, 
while  even  Phrynichos  and  the  other 
elder  rivals  of  ^JEschylus  survive  only  in 
meagre  fragments,  which  give  no  just 
idea  of  their  artistic  power  or  success. 
We  are  forced  to  begin  with  ^Eschylus, 
and  though  we  have  abundant  reason  to 
regard  him  as  by  far  the  most  daring 
and  creative  spirit  among  all  who  aided 
in  the  development  of  tragedy,  yet  we 
cannot  always  know  what  is  to  be  cred- 
ited to  his  genius,  and  how  much  was, 
even  in  his  day,  part  of  the  sacred  tra- 
ditions of  the  Dionysiac  festival. 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


209 


A  number  of  the  minor  inventions  and 
improvements  in  costume,  stage  machin- 
ery, etc.,  are  doubtless  due  to  him.  By 
adding  a  second  actor,,  he  really  became 
the  creator  of  classical  tragedy,  since  he 
thereby  first  made  possible  a  dialogue 
wholly  upon  the  stage,  thus  reducing 
the  chorus  from  the  leading  element  to 
the  position  of  sympathetic  listeners. 

^Eschylus  must  by  no  means  be  thought 
of  as  a  poet  of  the  study,  a  mere  turner 
of  verses.  Again  and  again,  during  the 
Persian  wars,  he  and  his  brothers  fought 
gallantly  in  the  Athenian  ranks.  His 
works,  though  they  do  not  violate  artistic 
propriety  by  covert  allusion  to  current 
events,  breathe  unmistakably  a  spirit  of 
steadfast,  enlightened  patriotism  and  sol- 
idierly  courage  as  well  as  of  fervent, 
[pious  trust  in  the  heavenly  justice.  To 
the  mood  of  his  time,  and  to  the  lofty 
earnestness  of  the  soldier-poet  himself, 
may  be  safely  attributed  much  of  the 
noble  elevation  of  tone,  the  sincere  reli- 
gious character,  which  continued  to  man- 
ifest themselves  in  Attic  tragedy  even 
long  after  ^Eschylus'  own  death.  Espe- 
cially congenial  to  his  nature  was  that 
doctrine  of  Nemesis,  which  he  taught 
with  such  terrible  power.  The  chief  les- 
son of  tragedy,  in  his  hands,  is  that  full 
atonement  in  suffering  must  be  paid  by 
every  man,  not  only  for  his  own  sins, 
but  also  for  all  the  crimes  of  his  ances- 
try:- 

"  For  every  guilty  deed 
Holds  in  itself  the  seed 
Of  retribution  and  undying  pain." 

Out  of  seventy  ^Eschylean  dramas 
known  and  considered  genuine  by  the 
competent  Alexandrian  critics,  seven 
have  drifted  to  us,  several  of  them  in 
tattered  and  imperfect  form.  It  is,  in- 
deed, highly  probable  that  for  several 
centuries  their  transmission  to  us  was 
dependent  on  the  preservation  of  a  single 
extant  manuscript.  ^Eschylus  usually, 
perhaps  always,  offered  for  the  compe- 
tition three  plays  connected  in  subject. 
Only  one  such  trilogy  has  come  down  to 

VOL.  LXII.  —  NO.  370.  14 


modern  times.  That  one  describes  the 
murder  of  Agamemnon  by  his  unfaithful 
wife ;  the  vengeance  inflicted  by  Orestes 
upon  his  own  mother  and  her  accomplice, 
^gisthus  ;  and  lastly  the  final  rescue  of 
Orestes  from  the  pursuing  Furies,  and 
his  purification  from  the  defilement  of 
matricide.  Every  lover  of  Greek  liter- 
ature should  read  Anna  Swanwick's  fine 
English  version  of  these  three  plays ; 
but  not  at  a  single  sitting,  nor  in  hours 
of  mental  depression.  Upon  the  Attic 
stage  the  effect  of  these  scenes  must  have 
been  terrific,  and  tradition  so  assures 
us. 

It  is  proposed  in  the  present  series  of 
papers  to  offer  to  English  readers  three 
works  of  our  poet,  all  earlier  than  the 
Oresteian  trilogy.  Each  of  them  has 
survived  the  dramas  with  which  it  was 
originally  connected.  They  are  the 
Seven  Against  Thebes,  the  Persians,  and 
the  Prometheus.  The  first-named  play 
was  preceded  by  a  lost  Laius  and  CEdipus, 
and  all  three  dealt,  of  course,  with  the 
crimes  and  sorrows  of  the  Theban  royal 
line.  The  Seven  Against  Thebes  was 
admired  greatly  by  the  ancients  for  its 
martial  spirit.  It  culminates  in  the  fa- 
tal assault  on  Thebes,  and  the  death, 
each  by  the  other's  hand,  of  CEdipus' 
two  sons,  the  reigning  and  the  exiled 
king.  A  final  scene,  in  which  Antigone 
declares  her  determination  to  bury  her 
traitor  brother,  is,  perhaps,  a  later  ad- 
dition, as  it  opens,  but  does  not  com- 
plete, the  subject  so  effectively  treated  in 
Sophocles'  famous  play. 

The  Persians  is  in  some  respects  the 
most  interesting  among  the  Greek  tra- 
gedies we  possess,  as  it  is  the  only  one 
founded  upon  an  event  of  the  poet's  own 
time,  and,  moreover,  contains  the  most 
graphic  and  authentic  account  which  we 
have  of  the  sea-fight  by  Salamis.  This 
description  of  the  battle,  written  by  an 
eye-witness,  to  be  recited  before  thou- 
sands of  surviving  contestants,  has  the 
highest  possible  trustworthiness.  It  is 
put  into  the  mouth  of  a  messenger  from 


210 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


[August, 


Xerxes,  for  the  scene  of   the  drama  is 
laid  at  the  Persian  court. 

The  Prometheus  has,  however,  a  wider 
interest  than  any  purely  Greek  drama 
can  have.  It  belongs,  in  part  at  least, 
as  much  to  us  as  to  the  ancient  hearers, 
for  it  is  an  attempt  by  a  great  poet  to 
deal  in  a  philosophic  spirit  with  the  re- 
lations of  divinity  to  primeval  man.  Its 

/chief  ethical  purpose  seems  to  have  been 
to  free  from  degrading  legends  and  bring 

*  out  in  clearer  relief  the  figure  of  a  just 
and  wise  supreme  ruler.  The  tortured 
Titan  only  appears  to  be  the  loftiest  of 
the  poet's  conceptions,  because  but  a  sin- 
gle act  of  the  great  drama  has  been 
transmitted  to  us.  Yet  even  so,  a  care- 
ful  reader  will  see  that  Prometheus  him- 
self can  claim  only  our  sympathy,  not 
our  approval. 

In  any  study  of  Greek  mythology,  it 
must  be  kept  in  mind  that  there  was  no 
complete  or  harmonious  system  of  belief 
developed  at  any  particular  time  or 
place.  Various  attempts  were,  indeed, 
made  to  reduce  the  principal  legends  to 
something  like  a  consistent  body  of  the- 
ology, though  with  very  imperfect  suc- 
cess; but  in  reality  Greek  myths  were 
more  diverse  and  manifold,  even,  than 
Greek  dialects.  Every  valley,  every 
long-settled  town,  every  ancient  shrine 
or  oracle,  had  its  own  local  tales ;  the 
favorite  tendency  being  to  invent  a  hero 
bearing  the  same  name  as  the  locality, 
and  then  to  associate  that  personage 
with  the  most  illustrious  figures  of  the 
universal  Greek  myths,  making  him  a 
son  of  Heracles,  of  Poseidon,  of  Zeus. 
This  multiplicity  of  local  legends  is  best 
seen  in  the  classical  guide-book,  as  we 
may  call  it,  of  Pausanias  the  traveler, 
who  visited  nearly  every  portion  of  the 
Greek  mainland  in  the  time  of  the  An- 
tonines.1 

There  are  undoubtedly  figures  in  the 

1  A  translation  of  this  most  curious  and  val- 
uable book  has  been  recently  added  to  Bonn's 
Classical  Library. 


Greek  pantheon  which  are  as  old  as  the 
days  when  the  ancestors  of  the  Greeks 
and  our  own  forefathers  dwelt  side  by 
side  in  some  unknown  region  of  Asia,  or 
of  Europe,  in  the  cradle  of  that  great 
Aryan  race,  which,  by  successive  tribal 
migrations  in  prehistoric  times,  has 
spread  itself  over  almost  all  lands,  from 
Hindustan  to  the  Hebrides. 

One  of  the  oldest  and  most  universal 
figures  is  Zeus,  the  omnipotent  father, 
whose  missile  is  the  lightning,  whose 
nod  shakes  heaven  and  earth.  The  Lat- 
in Jupiter  or  Diespiter,  the  Greek  Zeus- 
pater,  and  the  Sanscrit  Dyaus-pitr,  the 
several  names  for  the  supreme  divinity, 
are  of  precisely  the  same  composition, 
and  in  Sanscrit  the  original  significance, 
"  sky-father,"  remains  un obscured.  Zeus 
is,  therefore,  not  only  the  loftiest,  but 
perhaps  also  actually  the  oldest,  creation 
of  the  myth-making  imagination  ;  much 
older  than  the  shadowy  parents  and  an- 
cestors with  which  the  Greeks  eventually 
provided  him. 

Yet  even  with  this  majestic  figure  the 
bold  fancy  of  successive  generations, 
savage  or  refined,  of  countless  myth- 
makers,  amid  the  diverse  conditions  of 
life  in  a  thousand  valleys  and  islands, 
played  many  a  strange  trick.  To  begin 
with  the  most  bewildering  of  all,  in 
Crete  his  grave  was  pointed  out ! 

Of  the  countless  legends  which  repre- 
sented him  as  assuming  animal  forms,  to 
accomplish  some  disgraceful  or  wicked 
deed,  there  is  no  need  to  speak  in  detail. 
Andrew  Lang  has  thrown  an  interesting 
light  upon  this  subject  by  calling  atten- 
tion to  the  custom,  widespread  among 
savages,  of  totemism ;  that  is,  the  ac- 
ceptance of  some  animal,  generally  one 
which  can  be  easily  sketched  by  untrained 
hands,  as  the  name-giver  and  badge  of 
each  clan.  This  animal  usually  comes 
to  be  regarded  as  the  actual  ancestor  of 
the  tribe.  Now  many  a  gross  legend 
about  Zeus  may  have  arisen  when  such 
a  tribe  had  advanced  in  civilization  suf- 
ficiently to  prefer  the  belief,  not  that  the 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of 


211 


bull,  the  swan,  or  the  serpent  was  their 
progenitor,  but  that  the  supreme  god 
had  miraculously  assumed  such  a  form 
to  become  by  a  mortal  woman  the  an- 
cestor of  their  race. 

Whatever  their  precise  origin,  such 
legends  were  evidently  a  legacy  from 
ruder  forefathers.  The  historic  Greeks 
never  would  have  invented  such  tales. 
Most  men  were  no  doubt  perplexed  and 
shocked  by  them.  Plato,  and  other  phi- 
losophers before  and  after  him,  raised  a 
bold  voice  of  condemnation  against  all 
stories  of  evil-doing  by  the  gods. 

In  one  curious  belief  about  Zeus  all 
the  Greeks  were  apparently  united.  He 
had  not  always  reigned.  Like  a  human 
monarch,  he  had  a  father  and  a  grand- 
sire,  who  had  ruled  the  universe  before 
him.  His  father,  Kronos,  had  been  de- 
throned and  imprisoned  in  deepest  Tar- 
taros  by  his  rebellious  children :  a  fate, 
it  may  be  said  incidentally,  which  the 
grotesque  old  cannibal  richly  deserved. 
The  Prometheus  is  a  drama  which  takes 
us  back  to  that  period  of  elemental  strife. 

Homer  makes  no  allusion  to  Prome- 
theus, and  it  is  possible  that  the  whole 
myth,  in  the  form  familiar  to  us,  is  the 
invention  of  an  age  later  and  more  self- 
conscious  than  that  which  produced  the 
Odyssey.  The  name  Prometheus  is  a 
masculine  formation  on  the  same  stem 
as  the  Greek  word  for  forethought, 
"  promethia,"  and  the  tale  is  thus  avow- 
edly, in  its  origin,  a  parable.  Prome- 
theus, the  champion  of  humanity,  is  a 
[personification  of  that  quality  which 
raises  man  above  the  level  of  savage 
life,  and  enables  him  to  cope  with  those 
mighty  forces  of  nature  in  which  every 
savage's  untutored  mind  hears  and  sees 
his  gods.  He  is  the  fire  -  giver  simply 
because  the  acquisition  of  fire  is  felt  to 
be  the  most  essential  step  in  the  progress 
toward  civilization.  But  we  must  not 
try  to  detect  a  parable  in  every  detail  of 
this  or  any  Greek  myth.  When  once 
the  character  is  invented,  the  pure  love 
of  myth-making,  the  imaginative  fancy 


of  the  race,  supplies  him  with  exploits 
and  adventures,  or  attaches  to  him  the 
floating  tales  which  were  already  told  of 
Somebody  or  of  Nobody. 

Later  legends  made  Prometheus  the 
father  of  the  entire  human  race,  or  of 
Deucalion,  the  Hellenic  Noah,  sole  sur- 
vivor of  the  heaven-sent  flood.  In  still 
other  accounts  he  appears  as  the  actual 
creator  of  mankind.  The  traveler  Pau- 
sanias  was  shown,  in  Phokis,  fragments 
of  flesh-colored  clay,  having  a  peculiar 
human  odor,  remnants  of  the  material 
out  of  which  Prometheus  shaped  prime- 
val man.  In  the  earlier  Hellenic  myths, 
however,  there  is  a  striking  absence  of 
any  elaborate  attempt  to  explain  the  ori- 
gin of  man.  Most  Greeks  seemingly  con- 
tented themselves  with  the  explanation 
of  Topsy,  —  that  they  "  jes'  growed." 
Many  passages  in  ancient  authors  point 
clearly  to  the  belief  formerly  prevalent, 
that  men  at  first  developed  in  some  way 
from  trees,  or  grew  out  of  the  earth. 
This  belief  is  perhaps  hinted  at  in  the 
usual  remark  to  strangers,  in  the  Odys- 
sey:  — 

"Who,  pray,  art  thou,  or  whence  art  come  ? 
For  methinks   thou'rt  hardly  sprung  from 
rock  or  tree." 

The  grave  Thucydides,  least  mythical 
of  historians,  tells  us  that  the  old-fash- 
ioned Athenians  of  pure  descent  wore  a 
silver  grasshopper  to  bind  up  their  hair, 
an  emblem  that  they,  like  that  animal, 
were  aboriginal,  had  sprung  from  the 
Attic  soil.  All  lovers  of  the  Age  of  Fa- 
ble will  recall  the  favorite  legend  of  men 
rising  full-armed  from  the  ground  where 
the  dragon's  teeth  were  sown. 

In  ^Eschylus'  Prometheus,  and  in  that 
earlier  poem  by  which  he  was  evidently 
most  influenced,  the  human  race  is  ap- 
parently coeval  with  the  gods  themselves. 
The  poem  alluded  to  is  the  Theogpny 
of  Hesiod,  which  has  descended  to  us  in 
an  incomplete  and  interpolated  condi- 
tion. This  is  the  first  attempt  to  reduce 
mythology  to  a  system  which  has  been 
preserved.  v 


212 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


[August, 


Hesiod  was  a  poor  farmer  of  Ascra, 
an  obscure  village  in  BcEotia.  As  to  his 
time,  Herodotus,  peering  backward  into 
the  dark,  says,  "My  opinion  is  that 
Hesiod  and  Homer  lived  four  hundred 
years  before  my  time,  and  not  more." 
His  guess  is  as  good  as  any  modern  one. 
In  his  Theogony,  consisting  of  ten  hun- 
dred and  two  rather  heavy  and  prosy 
hexameter  lines,  Hesiod  attempts  a  com- 
plete genealogy  of  the  gods,  beginning 
with  Chaos,  Night,  Heaven,  Earth,  etc., 
all  these  being  individuals  in  the  Hesi- 
odic  account.  Zeus,  as  was  remarked 
before,  gains  supreme  power  by  dethron- 
ing and  imprisoning  his  father.  Zeus 
and  his  brethren  are  involved  in  a  des- 
perate struggle  with  their  uncles,  bro- 
thers of  the  deposed  Kronos,  who  are 
called  the  Titans.  Prometheus,  with  his 
brothers,  Epimetheus  (that  is,  After- 
thought) and  Atlas,  are  cousins  to  Zeus, 
being  children  of  the  Titan  lapetos. 
Hesiod  says  nothing  of  any  share  taken 
by  Prometheus  in  this  war  between  the 
Titans  and  the  younger  gods,  but  Pro- 
metheus does  already,  in  the  Theogony, 
appear  as  the  especial  champion  of  the 
human  race,  even  then  in  existence,  and 
apparently  treated  by  the  gods  as  fa- 
miliar friends.  Indeed,  a  line  in  the 
Works  and  Days  (another  poem  attrib- 
uted to  Hesiod)  declares  that  ".gods  and 
mortal  men  are  sprung  lrr>™  *h«»  c.ar»o 
jsojircfo'  —  no  doubt  the  common  moth- 
er, Earth. 

But  Prometheus,  says  Hesiod,  while 
making  a  sacrifice  in  man's  behalf,  at- 
tempts, by  trickery,  to  beguile  Zeus  into 
accepting  as  his  share  the  worthless 
bones  and  fat,  which  have  been  covered 
with  thin  slices  of  the  choicest  meat. 
Zeus,  in  revenge,  deprives  men  of  the 
use  of  fire,  and  Prometheus  undertakes 
to  steal  it  again  from  heaven  (as  later 
writers  add,  from  Zeus'  own  hearth ;  or 
from  Hephaistos'  forge  ;  or,  most  poetic 
fancy  of  all,  by  lighting  a  torch  at  the 
radiant  chariot- wheel  of  the  sun-god). 
Pandora  is,  moreover,  sent  to  torture 


mankind  with  her  deceitful  beauty  and 
by  opening  the  casket  of  woes.  Epime- 
theus accepts  her  as  his  bride,  and  from 
her,  says  the  poet,  sprang  the  idle,  mis- 
chief-making race  of  women.  Whether 
he  means  that  until  then  only  men  had 
existed  can  only  be  conjectured.  More- 
over, Epimetheus,  the  Titan's  son,  is 
surely  not  a  mortal  man ;  but  here  also 
the  rude  and  fragmentary  poem  eludes 
our  too  critical  inquiries.  Prometheus 
is  chained  to  a  pillar  and  tortured  by  a 
vulture,  which  devours  his  liver,  until, 
long  afterward,  Zeus  allows  his  favorite 
mortal  son,  Heracles,  that  his  glory  may 
be  yet  greater  on  earth,  to  shoot  the 
vulture  and  release  the  sufferer.  Thus 
far  the  Theogony  of  Hesiod,  a  partial 
sketch  of  which  is  essential  to  any  study 
of  JEschylus'  play. 

Another  Boaotian  poet,  but  of  far  lof- 
tier flight,  was  Pindar,  the  contempo- 
rary of  JEschylus  himself.  In  Pindar's 
Seventh  Isthmian  ode  we  find,  impres- 
sively told,  a  myth  which  influenced  JEs- 
chylus  powerfully  :  — 

"  For  the  hand  of  Thetis  "  (loveliest  of 
the  sea-nymphs)  "there  was  strife  be- 
tween Zeus  and  glorious  Poseidon,  each 
desiring  that  she  should  be  his  fair  bride. 
Yet  the  wisdom  of  the  immortal  gods 
brought  not  such  a  marriage  to  pass 
when  they  had  heard  a  certain  oracle. 
kFor  wise-counseling  Themis"  (Justice) 
"  told  how  it  was  predestined  that  the  sea- 
goddess  should  bear  an  offspring  might- 
ier than  his  father,  whose  hand  should 
wield  a  bolt  more  terrible  than  the  light- 
ning or  the  dread  trident,  if  ever  she 
wedded  Zeus  or  his  brethren."  "  Cease 
ye  herefrom;  let  her  enter  a  mortal's 
couch,  and  see  her  son  fall  in  war," 
says  Themis.  So  Thetis  was  given  to 
King  Peleus,  and  in  his  halls  she  bore 
Achilles. 

These  two  legends,  the  tale  of  Pro- 
metheus and  the  prophecy  concerning 
Thetis,  ^Eschylus  was  probably  the  first 
to  weld  together.  Prometheus  is  no  fit 
subject  for  tragedy  until  he  has  some 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of 


213 


means  to  resist,  at  least  passively,  the 
power  of  Zeus.  In  Hesiod's  account  his 
mother  is  a  Titanid  Clymene,  but  ^Es- 
chylus  has  boldly  assigned  him  to  The- 
mis as  a  son,  and  lets  him  learn  through 
her  of  the  danger  into  which  Zeus  will 
some  day  be  brought  by  his  infatuation 
for  the  lovely  sea-nymph  Thetis.  This 
secret  knowledge  enables  him  to  bear 
the  tortures  of  his  crucifixion  for  centu- 
ries, and  finally  so  terrifies  Zeus  that  he 
sends  Heracles  to  release  Prometheus, 
who,  however,  must  first  promise  that 
he  will  immediately  reveal  in  full  the 
secret  to  which  he  has  darkly  alluded.,. 

The  attempt  has  been  made  to  Jndi- 
cate  the  probable  development  of  the 
tragic  plot  in  our  poet's  mind.  We  are 
ready  to  begin  the  study  of  the  drama 
itself. 

The  scene  is  laid  in  the  extreme  north- 
east of  Europe.  At  the  back  of  the  stage 
is  represented  a  desolate  cliff,  and  the 
stage  itself  is  to  be  considered  as  a  ra- 
vine at  the  foot  of  the  precipice.  The 
ocean  is  seen  on  the  right ;  upon  the  left, 
the  wilderness. 

Might  and  Force  appear,  dragging  or 
carrying  the  gigantic  form  of  Prome- 
theus, while  Hephaistos,  the  smith  of 
the  gods,  follows,  with  sledge-hammer, 
spikes,  and  fetters.  Here  we  have  at 
once  an  evident  reminiscence  of  Hesiod, 
who  mentions  Might  and  Force  as  bro- 
thers, and  as  Zeus'  trustiest  helpers 
against  the  Titans. 

PROLOGUE. 

Might.   To  earth's  far  outmost  regions  we 

are  come, 

The  Scythian  tract,  the  pathless  wilderness. 
Hephaistos,  thou  the  injunctions  must  regard, 
Upon  thee  by  the  father  laid,  this  wretch 
Upon  the  lofty  cliff  to  set  in  bonds 
Unbreakable  of  adamantine  chains  ! 

The  glory  of  all-working  fire,  thy  flower, 
He  stole  and  brought  to  men.     For  such  mis- 
deed 

He  to  the  gods  must  pay  a  penalty, 
That  he  mav  learn  to  love  the  rule  of  Zeus, 
And  may  d«Bfcf  frnm_hiaJman-lovin^ 


Hephaistos.   O  Might  and  Force,  behold,  the 

will  of  Zeus, 
For   your  part,   is  fulfilled.     Naught  hinders 

more. 

I  lack  the  heart  to  bind  a  kindred  god 
By  force  against  this  rude  and  wintry  crag. 
But  yet  I  must,  indeed,  take  heart  for  this  : 
The  father's  words  are  hard  to  disregard. 
(To  Prometheus.}    O  thou  audacious  son  of 

Themis  sage, 

Against  thy  will  and  mine  in  brazen  chains 
I  '11  spike  thee  to  this  man-forsaken  hill, 
Where  neither  voice  nor  any  mortal  shape 
Thou  'It  see,  but,  scorched  by  Helios'  gleaming 

blaze, 

Thy  face  shall  lose  its  bloom.     Thou  wilt  re- 
joice 

When  starry-mantled  Night  shall  hide  the  day, 
Or  Helios  put  to  rout  the  frost  of  dawn. 
Even  the  agony  of  present  ill 
Shall  waste  thee.     Thy  releaser  lives  not  yet. 
Such  is   thy  gain   through  thy  man-loving 

ways. 

A  god,  thou  didst  not  shrink  from  wrath  of  gods, 
But  wrongfully  bestowed  thy  gifts  on  men. 
And  therefore  shalt  thou  guard  this  joyless 

rock, 

Upright,  unslumbering,  bending  not  thy  knee. 
Many  laments  thou 'It  utter,  and  vain  groans; 
For  unrelenting  is  the  heart  of  Zeus, 
And  ever  harsh  is  he  whose  rule  is  young. 
Might.   Well!   why  dost  thou  bemoan,  and 

tarry  in  vain  ? 

Why  dost  not  hate  the  deadliest  foe  of  gods, 
Who  has  betrayed  thy  glory  unto  men  ? 

Heph.    Kinship  and  friendship  are  a  mighty 

bond. 

Might.    I  grant  it.     But  how  canst  thou  dis- 
regard 

The  father's  words  ?    Dost  thou  not  dread  that 
more  ? 

Throughout  the  remainder  of  this  dia- 
logue it  will  be  noticed  how  aptly  the 
very  form  of  Hephaistos'  single -line 
speeches  indicates  his  aversion  to  the 
task  imposed  on  him,  while  Might,  in 
his  double-line  retorts,  gives  utterance  to 
his  unfeeling  delight  in  the  disgrace  and 
agony  of  Prometheus  :  — 

Heph.   Still  art  thou  harsh  and  full  of  inso- 
lence ! 
Might.    For  him,  at  least,  there  is  no  escape 

from  grief ; 

But  do  not  spend  thy  fruitless  toil  in  vain. 
Heph.    O  utterly  detested  handicraft ! 
Might.    Why  dost  thou  hate  it  ?     For  indeed 

thine  art 
Is  no  way  cause  of  that  which  now  is  done* 


214 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


[August, 


Hepk.    Would  it  had  fallen  to  another' s  lot ! 
Might.    All  thing's  are  onerous  save  to  rule 

the  gods, 
For  there  is  no  one  free  save  Zeus  alone. 

Heph.    I  know  it ;  nor  can  I  that  word  gain- 
say. 
Might.   Wilt  thou  not  hasten,  then,  to  fetter 

him, 
For  fear  the  father  see  thee  lingering  ? 

Prometheus  is  now  held  firmly  against 
the  cliff  by  the  two  grim  servants  of 
Zeus,  while  Hephaistos  reluctantly  binds 
him  fast. 

Heph.   And  lo,  here  are  the  armlets  to  be- 
hold. 
Might.    Take  them,  and  round  his  arms  with 

mighty  strength 
Smite  with  the  hammer.     Spike  him  to  the 

rocks. 
Heph.    Behold,  't  is  done  ;  nor  is  that  task 

delayed. 
Might.    Bind   fast!     Smite   harder!     Spare 

not !     He  is  skilled 
Even  from  the  impossible  to  find  escape. 

Heph.    This  arm,  at  least,  is  fixed  beyond 

release. 
Might.    This,   too,   now  fetter  sure ;  so  he 

may  learn 

That  he,  though  wise,  is  not  so  keen  as  Zeus. 
Heph.   No  one,  save  him,  has  cause  for  wrath 

toward  me ! 
Might.   Now  pitilessly  drive  straight  through 

his  breast 
With  strength  this  adamantine  wedge's  tooth. 

It  is  now,  at  any  rate,  evident  that  the 
part  of  Prometheus  is  not  here  taken 
by  a  living  actor.  It  is  only  a  great 
image  which  is  thus  fastened  to  the 
rock ;  and  as  Force  is  a  mute,  this  scene, 
as  well  as  the  rest  of  the  play,  could  be 
performed  by  two  actors. 

Heph.    Alas!    Prometheus,   for  thy  woes  I 

mourn. 
Might.   Dost  thou  again  delay,  and  mourn  the 

foe 

Of  Zeus  ?    Perchance  thou  'It  pity  yet  thyself ! 
Heph.    Thou  seest  a  vision  hard  for  eyes  to 

view. 

Might.   I  only  see  one  meeting  his  deserts. 
But  cast  the  girdling  bands  about  his  sides. 
Heph.    Be  not  too  urgent,  since  this   needs 

must  be. 
Might.   But  I  will  urge  thee,  and  proclaim  it, 

too. 

Do  thou  descend,  and  bind  in  rings  his  legs. 
Heph.    Behold,  the  deed  without  great  toil 

is  wrought. 


Might.   Now  smite  the  piercing  anklets  vig- 
orously, 

For  harsh  is  he  who  is  censor  of  our  task. 
Heph.    The   utterance   of   thy  tongue   is   as 

thy  shape  ! 

Might  and  his  companion  are  evidently 
made  repulsive  by  hideous  masks. 

Might.    Play  thou  the  weakling  ;  but  do  not 

revile 

My  sternness  and  the  harshness  of  my  wrath. 
Heph.   Let  us  depart.   His  limbs  are  fettered 
now. 

And  gathering  up  his  tools,  the  soft- 
hearted smith  beats  a  hasty  retreat,  but 
Might  lingers  to  address  a  taunting  word 
of  farewell  to  the  silent  sufferer  :  — 

Be   insolent   here  !     Steal   now   the  rights   of 

gods, 
And  fetch  them   to   ephemeral   men!     How, 

pray, 

May  mortals  rescue  thee  from  this  distress  ? 
Thou  falsely  art  of  gods  Prometheus  called, 
For  thou  hast  need  of  forethought  for  thyself, 
How   thou   shalt   extricate    thee   from    these 

bonds. 

Hereupon  Might  and  Force  also  depart. 
Prometheus,  left  alone,  breaks  his  dis- 
dainful silence,  and  appeals  for  sympa- 
thy to  the  powers  of  nature  about  him. 
A  modern  poet,  even  a  Shelley  or  a 
Scott,  only  tries  to  fancy  that  winds  and 
waves,  sun  and  earth,  sympathize  with 
man.  To  ^Eschylus  —  and  especially  in 
this  drama  —  the  world  actually  is  full 
of  life  in  myriad  forms  which  are  more 
real  than  humanity  itself. 

The  same  actor  who  played  Hephais- 
tos now  speaks,  from  behind  the  image 
on  the  cliff,  as  Prometheus.  The  other 
player  will  appear  successively  as  Okea- 
nos,  lo,  and  Hermes. 

Prometheus.    0  air  divine,  and  breezes  fleet 

of  wing ! 

Ye  river-sources,  and  the  deep-sea  waves' 
Innumerable  laugh  !  great  mother  Earth  ! 
And  on  the  sun's  all-seeing  disc  I  call ! 
See  ye  what  I,  a  god,  endure  from  gods. 
Do  ye  behold  in  what  disgrace 
Wasting  away  through  unnumbered  years 
I  shall  endure  ?     For  the  youthful  lord 
Of  the  Blessed  Ones  has  contrived  for  me 

Such  unseemly  bonds. 
Alas !  for  the  evils  both  now  and  to  come 
I  lament,     What,  pray,  is  destined  to  be 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


215 


The  limit  for  these  my  sorrows  ? 
And  yet,  what  say  I  ?     All  do  I  foreknow 
Exactly  that  shall  be  ;  nor  unforeseen 
Shall  any  trouble  come.     My  destined  fate 
With  resignation  I  should  bear,  who  know 
The  strength  resistless  of  Necessity. 

But  I  can  neither  tell  nor  leave  untold 
My  lot.     For  bringing  gifts  to  men  in  these 
Perplexities  I  wretchedly  am  bound. 
The  source  of  fire  within  the  hollow  reed 
I  sought  by  stealth,  which  has  become  for  men 
Teacher  of  every  art,  and  great  resource. 
But  this  atonement  for  my  sins  I  pay, 
Being  aloft  in  air  bound  fast  in  chains. 

Ah,  ah ! 

What  echo,  what  odor  unseen,  to  me  flits, 
Divine  or  mortal,  or  of  both  combined  ? 
Unto  the  hill  on  the  bounds  of  the  world 
Comes  he  to  view  my  woes,  or  seeking  what  ? 
Behold  me  bound,  a  god  in  evil  plight !     *•• 
A  foe  unto  Zeus,  and  with  all  the  gods 
Into  enmity  have  I  fallen,  whoso 
Are   permitted   to    enter   the   courtyard   of 

Zeus, 

Because  of  my  too  great  love  for  mankind. 
—  What  rustling  of  birds  do  I  perceive 
Yet  again  at  hand  ?     And  the  air  resounds 
With  the  lightsome  whirring  of  their  wings. 
I  dread  whatever  approaches  ! 

The  sea-nymphs,  daughter  of  Okeanos 
(Ocean)  and  Tethys,  have  heard  in 
their  grotto  under  the  sea  the  sound  of 
Hephaistos'  hammer,  and,  suspecting  that 
Prometheus  may  be  the  victim,  they  have 
bravely  hastened  forth  to  proffer  sym- 
pathy. 

They  enter  singing,  as  they  ride  in  a 
chariot  through  the  air.  Prometheus 
answers  in  the  lively  anapaestic  form  of 
recitative.  This  passage  is  the  Parodos, 
as  the  Oceanids  constitute  the  chorus  of 
the  tragedy.  They  have  overheard  Pro- 
metheus' last  words  ;  indeed,  they  were 
probably  then  already  visible  to  the 
spectators,  though  the  fettered  Prome- 
theus is  supposed  to  be  unable  to  turn 
his  head  to  see  and  greet  them. 

PARODOS. 

Chorus.     Have  no  dread  !     A  friendly  band 

is  ours, 

That  with  fleet  contending  wings, 
Not  with  ease  the  father' s  mind  beguiling, 
Toward  this  rocky  hill  has  come. 


For  the  sound  of  beaten  brass  had  darted 

Through  the  hollows  of  our  caverns, 
Banishing  my  shy  reserve.     Unsandaled, 

On  my  winged  car  I  hastened  forth. 

Prometheus.    Ah  me !     Ah  me ! 
Ye  offspring  of  Tethys,  in  children  rich, 
And  sprung  from  him  who  about  the  world 
Winds  with  his  ever-unresting  stream, 
The  father  Okeanos,  —  look  !     Behold 
In  what  captivity  impaled 
On  the  topmost  crags  of  this  ravine 

An  unenvied  watch  I  am  keeping  ! 

Clio.   I  behold,  Prometheus  !     To  my  eyes 

Rushed  a  fearful  mist 
Full  of  tears,  as  I  descried  thy  flgwre 

Wasting  on  the  rocks  away, 
In  thy  shameful  adamantine  fetters. 
Youthful  pilots  rule  Olympus ; 
Zeus  with  novel  laws  tyrannic  governs  ; 

What  was  mighty  once  is  now  unseen. 

Prom.    Oh  that  under  the  earth  and  to  Ha- 
des' abode 
He  had  cast  me,  to  boundless  Tartaros 

That  receiveth  the  dead, 

And  set  me  in  bonds  that  could  not  be  loosed, 
Where   neither   a   god   nor   aught    else    that 
lives 

Had  rejoiced  thereat ! 

Now,  wretched,   the  sport  of   the   breezes  of 
heaven, 

I  endure  'mid  the  foes'  exultation. 

Cho.    Who  of  gods  is  so  unfeeling 

That  to  him  this  brings  enjoyment  ? 
Who  but  grieves  with  thee  in  trouble, 

Zeus  alone  except  ?     But  he 
Wrathful  holds  a  heart  unbending, 

While  he  sways  the  heavenly  race. 
He  will  yield  not  ere  his  soul  be  sated, 
Or  by  some  device  his  kingship, 

Hard  to  win,  be  wrested  from  his  grasp. 

Prom.   Yet  surely  of  me,  although  I  am 
In  merciless  fetters  and  suffering  wrong, 
The  chief  of  the  Blessed  will  feel  the  need, 
To  reveal  that  new  decision  whereby 
He  of  honors  and  sceptre  bereft  shall  be. 
Nor  by  Persuasion's  honeyed  charms 

Will  I  be  beguiled, 

Nor  yet  from  dread  of  his  terrible  threats 
Will  I  this  secret  to  him  make  known, 
Until  he  release  me  from  pitiless  bonds, 

And  shall  consent 
To  make  for  this  shame  an  atonement. 

Cho.   Rash  thou  art,  and  no  submission 

Makest  in  thy  bitter  anguish  ; 
All  too  bold  the  words  thou  speakest ; 

Piercing  terror  stirs  my  soul. 
For  thy  fate  am  I  affrighted, 

Wondering  where,  from  these  thy  toils, 
Thou  shalt  anchor  and  behold  a  haven, 
Since  a  nature  unrelenting 

And  a  stubborn  heart  hath  Kronos"1  son.          * 


216 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


[August, 


Prom.  Full  well  I  know  that  Zeus  is  harsh, 
And  holds  that  with  him  all  justice  abides. 

Yet  milder  of  mood 

Some  day  he  will  be,  when  crushed  thereunto. 
Then  shall  he  allay  his  unyielding  wrath, 
And  with  me  in  my  eagerness  eagerly  he 

Into  friendship  and  league  will  enter. 

Here  the  Parodos  ends,  and  a  calmer 
dialogue  follows  between  the  great  suf- 
ferer and  the  sympathizing  sea-nymphs. 
We  may  call  this  the  beginning  of  the 
first  episode,  though  these  technical  di- 
visions are  not  so  clearly  marked  as  in 
later  Greek  dramas.  Especially  is  this 
true  of  a  play  which,  like  the  present  one, 
admits  of  little  action  after  the  opening 
scene. 

FIRST   EPISODE. 

Chorus.   Do  thou  reveal  and  tell  us  all  the 

tale; 

Upon  what  charge  has  Zeus  laid  hold  on  thee, 
And  treats  thee  bitterly  and  shamefully  ? 
Instruct  us,  if  thy  words  shall  work  no  harm. 
Prometheus.   Even  to  speak  thereof  is  pain 

to  me, 

But  silence  too  is  pain,  and  every  way 
Is  woe. 

When  first  the  gods  began  their  wrath, 
And  strife  against  each  other  was  aroused, 
Some  wishing  to  drive  Kronos  from  his  seat, 
That  Zeus,  they  said,  might  reign ;  but  some, 

again, 
Earnest    that   Zeus    shonld    never   rule    the 

gods,  — 

Then  I,  who  would  have  won  to  shrewder  plans 
The  Titans,  progeny  of  Heaven  and  Earth, 
Availed  not ;  but  all  crafty  artifice 
Disdaining  in  their  strength   and  pride,  they 

thought 
By  violence  easily  to  be  supreme. 

Prometheus'  real  sympathies,  then,  were, 
by  his  own  confession,  on  the  side  of 
Kronos  and  the  Titans,  against  Zeus. 

But  not  once  only  had  my  mother  Themis, 
And  Earth,  —  one  figure  under  many  names,  — 
Foretold  how  destiny  should  be  fulfilled : 
That  not  by  force,  nor  yet  through  violence, 
But  by  their  craft  should  the  victorious  rule. 

Yet  when  with  arguments  I  showed  them  this, 
They  did  not  deign  to  glance  at  it  at  all. 
In  such  conditions  surely  it  appeared 
Wisest  for  me,  winning  my  mother's  aid, 
Gladly  to  succor  Zeus,  who  welcomed  me. 

Prometheus   is  not  describing  his    own 


action  as  a  very  creditable  one.    He  aids 
Zeus  because   he    is  sure  to  win,   after 
failing  to  induce  his  own  proper  allies  to 
adopt  craftier  measures. 
And  through  my  plans  the  deep  and  darksome 

vault 

Of  Tartaros  holds  ancient  Kronos  now, 
With  his  allies. 

The  tyrant  of  the  gods, 
Having  received  sueh  benefits  from  me, 
Requited  me  with  recompense  so  base ; 
For  this  is  somehow  a  disease  innate 
In  tyranny,  to  put  no  trust  in  friends. 

And  as  for  what  ye  ask,  upon  what  charge 
He  thus  maltreats  me,  that  will  I  make  clear. 
When  he  was  seated  on  his  father's  throne, 
Straightway  to  various  divinities 
He  allotted  various  honors,  and  his  realm 
Divided  ;  but  for  wretched  men  he  showed 
Nowise  regard,  and,  blotting  out  their  race, 
Desired  another  new  one  to  create. 
And  this  not  one  opposed  except  myself  ; 
But  I  did  venture,  and  released  mankind, 
Who  else  had  perished  and  to  Hades  fared. 
And  therefore  with  such  tortures  am  I  bound, 
Grievous  to  suffer,  piteous  to  behold. 
By  pitying  mortals  I  have  not  deserved 
This  treatment,  yet  I  ruthlessly  am  brought 
To  order  thus  ;  for  Zeus  a  shameful  sight ! 

-ZEsehylus  has  modified  the  account  of 
Hesiod  in  important  respects.  There  isl 
no  hint  of  a  fall  of  man  from  a  previ4 
ous  happier  state.  The  dishonest  sacri- 
fice, as  well  as  the  consequent  wrath  of 
Zeus,  and  also  the  creation  of  Pando- 
ra, have  vanished  from  the  tale.  Such 
legends  were  without  doubt  beneath  the 
dignity  of  the  conception  formed  by  JEs- 
chylus  of  the  supreme  deity,  but  their 
disappearance  leaves  Zeus'  desire  to  de- 
stroy mankind  quite  unexplained. 

Prometheus  is  no  doubt  sincere  in  his 
>  criticism,  but  he  has  failed  to  compre- 
\hend  fully  the  scope  of  Zeus'  plans.    The!. 
destruction  of  the  present   mortal  racejl 
was  to  be  accomplished  only  in  order  toB 
prepare  the  earth  for  fitter  inhabitants.,] 
Such  an  annihilation  of  humanity  for  its 
unworthiness    is    a  familiar    feature    in 
Greek  as  well  as  in  Oriental  tradition. 
Indeed,  in   the  Works  and    Days,   the 
race  then  living  is  supposed  to  be  the 
last   of   five   wholly  distinct    successive 
creations.     Hence   the  mere   statement 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of 


217 


of  his  intention  to  destroy  the  exist- 
ing race  would  not  necessarily  stamp 
Zeus  as  a  cruel  and  arbitrary  tyrant, 
nor  justify  the  resistance  of  Prometheus, 
though  it  does,  of  course,  secure  for  the 
sufferer  the  sympathy  and  gratitude  of 
mankind. 

It  is  curious  that  in  the  Works  and 
Days  Hesiod  (if  it  is  he)  repeats  in 
somewhat  altered  form  the  tale  of  Pro- 
metheus and  Pandora  related  in  the 
Theogony.  The  former  poem,  however, 
does  not  appear  to  have  influenced  ^Es- 
chylus  in  any  important  detail  of  his 
drama  ;  and  it  would  perhaps  be  difficult 
to  prove  even  that  he  was  acquainted 
with  it. 

Zeus'  failure  to  carry  out  his  project 
indicates  that  his  power  is  not  unlimited. 
That  is  indeed  a  notion  almost  inherent 
in  any  polytheistic  creed.  The  Zeus  of 
-ZEschylus  is  a  most  noble  and  lofty  fig- 
ure; but  the  poet  deals  cautiously,  in 
fact  reverently,  with  the  traditions  of 
his  ancestors,  even  when  they  weaken 
somewhat  the  simple  majesty  of  his  own 
conception.  Many  of  the  myths  he  de- 
liberately avoids ;  in  some  he  tries  to 
bring  out  a  worthier  significance ;  but 
he  cannot  openly  combat  even  the  most 
repulsive.  A  very  similar  spirit  per- 
vades Pindar's  poems,  and  is  clearly 
avowed  in  his  treatment  of  the  Pelops 
myth,  in  which  the  Blessed  Gods  had 
been  represented  as  cannibals. 

We  must  never  forget  that  this  whole 
speech  of  Prometheus  is  an  ex  parte 
statement  of  a  rebel ;  heroic,  indeed, 
self-sacrificing,  and  sincere,  yet  a  rebel, 
who  eventually  sees  and  confesses  his 
short-sightedness  and  error,  binds  his 
brows  with  the  willow  of  repentance, 
and  puts  upon  his  finger  the  iron  ring 
of  submission. 

Chorus.   Of  iron  soul  and  wrought  of   stone 

is  he 

Who  with  thy  troubles  sympathizes  not, 
Prometheus.     I  desired  not  to  behold 
The  sight,  and  seeing  it  am  pained  at  heart. 
Prometheus.    A  wretched   sight   indeed   for 
friends  am  I. 


Cho.    No  further,  even,  didst  thou  go  than 

that? 
Prom.    I   rescued   mortals   from   foreseeing 

fate. 

Whatever  the  poet's  intention  may  be 
in  this  mysterious  allusion,  we  shall  prob- 
ably agree  that  it  is  a  blessing  not  to 
foresee  the  destiny  which  we  are  help- 
less to  avert.  It  is  strange  that  Prome- 
theus should  be  the  power  mentioned  as 
depriving  men  of  any  prophetic  insight. 
The  allusion  is  perhaps  to  that  over- 
whelming dread  of  immifient  death  which 
paralyzes  human  activity. 

Cho.   What  remedy  hast  thou  found  for  that 

disease  ? 
Prom.    Blind   hopes   have   I   implanted    in 

their  souls. 
Cho.    Thou   gavest   mighty   aid   thereby  to 

men. 

Prom.  And  fire  besides  I  did  convey  to  them. 
Cho.   Ephemeral  men  have  now  the  blazing 

fire? 
Prom.    Ay,    and    through   that   shall   learn 

full  many  arts. 

Cho.  Upon  such  accusations,  then,  does  Zeus 
Maltreat  thee,  and  relaxes  not  thy  woes. 
But  to  thy  struggle  is  no  limit  set  ? 

Prom.   No  other  but  whenever  pleases  him. 
Cho.   How  shall  he  wish  it,  or  what  hope  is 

there  ? 
Dost  thou  not   see    thine   error  ?     That   thou 

erredst 

For  me  to  say  is  pain,  and  grief  to  thee. 
—  But  leave  we  that.     Seek  some  escape  from 

toils. 
Prom.    Lightly  may  he  who  is  secure  from 

woes 

Advise  and  chide  that  one  who  fareth  ill. 
And  all  that  thou  hast  said  full  well  I  know. 
Of  my  free  will  I  erred,  I  do  confess. 
Through  aiding  mortals  I  have  come  to  grief  ; 
Yet  did  not  think  with  such  a  penalty 
To  wither  on  these  rocks  aloft  in  air, 
Chancing  on  this  deserted  friendless  hill. 
Yet  do  not  ye  my  present  woes  bewail, 
But  earthward  come,  and  what  shall  yet  befall 
Hear,  that  ye  all  unto  the  end  may  learn. 
Obey,  and  share  the  toil  of  him  who  now 
Is  troubled.     Wandering  calamity 
Comes  likewise  at  some  time  to  many  a  one. 

That  is,  disdain  not  him  who  now  is 
suffering  and  disgraced.  Time  may 
yet  bring  round  his  revenges. 

Cho.    Not  upon  the  reluctant  hast  thou  en- 
joined, 


218 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


[August, 


O  Prometheus,  this. 
And  deserting  now  my  rushing  car, 
And  the  sacred  ether,  the  bird's  highway, 
To  the  rugged  earth  do  I  approach ; 

And  I  fain  in  full 
Would  hear  the  account  of  thy  sorrows. 

But  as  the  nymphs  are  alighting,  their 
father,  Okeanos,  comes  riding  in  upon 
a  griffin  or  hippocamp.  -ZEschylus  is 
fond  of  such  daring  devices  and  gro- 
tesque appearances  as  this,  and  makes 
much  greater  demands  upon  the  stage 
machinery  than  does  Euripides.  Oke- 
anos is  a  type  of  timid,  time-serving 
good-will.  He  will  aid  Prometheus, 
especially  with  prudent  advice,  so  long 
as  his  sympathy  does  not  endanger  his 
own  comfort.  Prometheus  receives  him 
with  marked  impatience,  and  eagerly 
dismisses  him  with  scantiest  courtesy. 

Okeanos.    To  the  goal  of  my  far-away  journey 

I  come, 

Which  I,  0  Prometheus,  to  thee  have  made, 
This  fleet-winged  bird  without  a  bit 
Guiding  by  force  of  my  will  alone. 
And  know  that  I  sorrow  with  thee  in  distress. 
For  indeed  methinks  our  kindred  blood 

Compels  me  to  this ; 

And  besides  that  tie,  there  is  no  one  whom 
I  in  greater  regard  would  hold  than  thee. 
And  thou  shalt  perceive  how  since-re  are  my 

words, 

Nor  known  to  my  tongue  are  courtesies  vain. 
Come,  how  I  can  aid  thee  I  pray  thee  make 

known, 

For  thou  never  shalt  say  that  any  friend 
Thou  hast  than  Okeanos  stancher. 
Prometheus.  Well,  what  is  this  ?     Art  thou 

too  come  to  view 
My  tortures  ?     How,  pray,  hast  thou  dared  to 

leave 
The   stream  that   bears   thy   name,    and   thy 

rock-roofed 

Natural  grottoes,  to  approach  the  earth, 
Mother  of  iron  ?     Art  thou  come,  indeed, 
To  see  my  fate,  and  sympathize  in  woes  ? 
Gaze,  then,  upon  the  sight.    The  friend  of  Zeus, 
Who  aided  in  establishing  his  rule, 
See   with   what   tortures  I   through   him    am 

bowed. 
Okean.    I  see,  Prometheus,  and  would  offer 

thee 

The  best  advice,  ingenious  though  thou  art. 
—  Know  thine  own  self,  and  take  on  thee  new 

ways, 

For  new,  too,  is  the  tyrant  of  the  gods. 
But  if  thou  hurlest  forth  such  biting  words 


And  harsh,  it  may  be  Zeus,  though  high  aloft 
He  sits,  will  hear  ;  and  so  this  present  wrath 
Shall  seem  but  mockery  of  suffering. 

(Zeus  does  indeed  hear.  Every  whis- 
per beneath  the  dome  of  the  cold,  cheer- 
less sky  is  reechoed  to  his  throne ;  and 
the  remembrance  of  this  will  add  great- 
ly to  the  impressiveness  of  the  whole 
drama.) 

Unhappy  one,  restrain  thine  ire  within, 
And  seek  for  a  relief  from  this  distress. 
Foolish  my  words,  perchance,  appear  to  thee  ; 
But  yet  such  are  indeed  the  penalties, 
Prometheus,  of  a  too  presumptuous  tongue. 
Not  yet  thou  'rt  humble,  nor  by  troubles  bowed, 
But  wishest  to  bring  others  yet  on  thee. 
If  thou  wilt  take  me  for  thy  counselor, 
Thou  wilt  not  kick  against  the  goad,  because 
A  monarch  harsh  and  uncontrolled  hath  power. 

But  I  am  going  now,  and  I  will  try 
If  I  may  from  this  torture  set  thee  free. 
Do  thou  be  quiet,  and  not  bold  of  speech. 
Or  dost  thou  not  well  know,  though  overwise, 
That  punishment  befalls  a  froward  tongue  ? 
Prom.   I  envy  thee,  that  free  from   blame 

thou  art, 

Who  yet  hast  dared  and  shared  in  all  with  me. 
But  now  refrain,  and  trouble  not  thyself. 
Thou  'It   not   persuade  him ;    he  's   not   trac- 
table ; 

Be  cautious,  lest  thy  errand  harm  thyself. 
Okean.    Fitter  by  far  art   thou   to   instruct 

thy  friends 
Than  thine  own  self :  by  facts,  not  words,   I 

judge. 

But  do  not  check  me  in  my  eagerness  ; 
For  I  declare  that  Zeus  will  grant  to  me 
This  boon,  and  so  release  thee  from  thy  toils. 
Prom.    I  thank  thee,  but  will  nowise  ever 

yield. 

Thou  lackest  not  for  zeal,  yet  trouble  not 
Thyself  ;  for  all  in  vain,  not  aiding  me, 
Thou 'It   take   the  trouble,  —  if  indeed  thou 
wilt. 

There  is  evidently  some  irritation  aroused 
on  both    sides ;    and    Prometheus    does 
not  seem  quite  sure  even   of    Okeanos' 
sincerity  in  offering  to  intercede. 
But  prithee  hold  thy  peace,  and  stand  aloof  ; 
For  though  my  fate  be  hard,  I  not  for  that 
Would  wish  that  sorrows  might  on  many  fall. 

Ah,  no  !   my  brother's  lot  distresses  me,  — 
Atlas,  who  in  the  Hesperian  region  stands, 
Holding  the  pillar  of  the  sky  and  earth 
Upon  his  shoulders  ;  not  an  easy  weight. 

The   wearisome   task   of   Atlas   brings, 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of 


219 


perhaps  naturally,  to  Prometheus'  mind 
the  somewhat  similar  fate  of  the  giant 
Typhon,  or  Typhceus,  who  is  buried  un- 
der JEtna  ;  but  the  length  of  the  digres- 
sion is  certainly  surprising.  The  ex- 
planation usually  given  for  it  is  that 
jEschylus,  during  a  visit  to  Sicily,  had 
seen  a  great  eruption  of  JEtna.  This 
had  made  such  an  impression  upon  his 
mind  that  he  seized  upon  the  opportu- 
nity to  allude  to  it  in  his  tragedy. 

The  earth-born  dweller  in  Cilician  caves 

I  pitied  when  I  saw,  a  prodigy 

Most  wretched,  hundred-headed,  held  by  force  : 

Fierce  Typhon,  who  resisted  all  the  gods, 

Hissing  out  death  from  his  terrific  jaws  ; 

And  from  his   eyes   he   sent   grim   lightnings 

forth. 

The  power  of  Zeus  he  strove  by  force  to  crush. 
But  unto  him  Zeus'  sleepless  missile  sped, 
The  downward-plunging  bolt  that  breathes  out 

flame, 

And  all  his  haughty  boasting  overwhelmed  ; 
For  he  was  smitten  to  the  very  soul, 
His  strength  by  thunder  and  by  fire  destroyed. 
And  now,  a  helpless,  sprawling  shape,  he  lies 
Near  to  the  narrow  channel  of  the  sea, 
Beneath  the  roots  of  ^Etna  weighted  down. 
But  on  the  topmost  peaks  Hephaistos  sits, 
Forging  the  iron  ;  whence  shall  some  day  break 

forth 

Rivers  of  fire,  with  fierce  jaws  to  devour 
The  wide-extending  meads  of  Sicily. 
So  Typhon  will  pour  forth  his  boiling  wrath, 
With  the  hot  missiles  of  fire-breathing  rain 
Insatiable,  though  by  Zeus'  lightning  charred. 

This  digression,  which  by  the  way  close- 
ly resembles  a  passage  in  Pindar's  first 
Pythian  ode,  does  not  strengthen  the 
drama.  Prometheus  seems  to  forget 
himself  in  glorifying  the  might  of  Zeus. 
Again  addressing  Okeanos  directly,  he 
continues :  — 

Thou  art  not  inexperienced,  nor  hast  need 
Of  me  as  teacher  ;  save  me  as  thou  canst ; 
And  I  my  present  fortune  will  endure, 
Until  the  spirit  of  Zeus  shall  cease  from  wrath. 

Okean.    Art  thou,  then,  O  Prometheus,   not 

aware 

Words  are  physicians  of  a  mind  diseased  ? 
That  is,  conciliatory  words  will  calm  the 
wrath  of  Zeus. 

Prom.    If   at  a  fitting   time  we   soothe    the 

soul, 
Not  check  its  rage  at  height  with  violence. 


Okean.    But  in  my  zeal  for  thee  and  veutu- 

rousness 
What  harm  dost  thou  perceive  ?     Explain  to 

me. 

Prom.    Superfluous  trouble  and  vain  foolish- 
ness ! 
Okean.   Leave  me  to  suffer  with  this  ailment, 

since 
He  who  is  sage  had  best  not  pass  for  wise. 

This  is  no  doubt  a  taunt :  "  It  is  perhaps 
better  to  be  simple,  since  thy  far-famed 
wisdom  brings  thee  to  this  sorry  pass." 

Prom.    The  error  will  be   counted   as  mine 

own. 
Okean.    Thy  words  dispatch  me  plainly  home 

again. 
Prom.    Lest  grief  for  me   should   draw  his 

hate  on  thee. 

Okean.    His,  who  but   lately  holds   the   al- 
mighty seat  ? 
Prom.   Beware  of  him,  lest  he  be  vexed  at 

heart. 

Okean.    Calamity,  Prometheus,  teaches  thee. 
Prom.   Set  forth.     Depart.     Hold  fast  thy 

present  mind. 
Okean.    Thy  words,  already  on  my  way,  I 

hear, 

For  my  four-footed  bird  skims  with  his  wings 
The  ether's  far  expanse,  and  joyfully 
In  his  home  stables  he  would  bend  the  knee. 

And  borne  on  his  eager  griffin,  the 
sea-god  straightway  vanishes. 

The  chorus  now  sing  the  first  lyrical 
interlude,    commiserating    Prometheus : 


FIRST   STASIMON. 

I  bewail  thy  fatal  doom,  Prometheus. 

From  my  tender  eyes 
Pouring  forth  a  stream  of  trickling  tears, 
I  my  cheek  have  stained  with  moistening  rills. 

Melancholy  is  thy  lot ! 
Zeus,  commanding  with  his  new  decrees, 

Unto  gods  that  were  of  old 
His  imperious  sceptre  now  displays. 

All  the  earth  resounds  with  lamentation 

Even  now,  and  mourns 
For  the  honors,  ancient,  glorious, 
By  thy  kinsmen  held  of  old,  and  thine. 

All  who  dwell  within 
Holy  Asia's  neighboring  domain, 

Mortal  men,  in  sympathy 
Sorrow  for  thy  much-lamented  woes. 

Dwellers  in  the  Colchian  land, 
Maidens  fearless  in  the  fray, 


220 


The  Prometheus  of  ^?Eschylus. 


[August, 


With  the  Scythian  throng,  who  hold 
Far-off  regions  by  the  lake  Mozotis; 

With  Arabia's  martial  flower, 
They  who  on  the  lofty  crag 
Near  to  Caucasus  abide, 
Furious  host  that  raye  with  keen-edged  lances. 

The  fearless  maidens  are  the  Ama- 
zons. We  hardly  understand  an  allusion 
to  Arabia  in  the  far  North,  and  Ger- 
man scholars  calmly  propose  to  change 
the  text  to  "  Chalybia's,"  "  Chalkis's," 
"  Aria's,"  or  "  The  Sarmatians',"—  a 
proceeding  which  a  disciple  of  Professor 
Goodwin  is  not  likely  to  approve.  Of 
the  city  on  the  lofty  crag  we  know  noth- 
ing whatever  ;  perhaps  it  is  Ekbatana. 

Only  one  of  Titans  heretofore 
Have  I  seen  subdued, 
Bound  in  shameful  adamantine  chains,  — 

Atlas  the  divine  ; 
Who  forever,  on  his  mighty  back, 

Groaning,  holds  the  sky. 
Waves  that  crash  together  mourn  for  him, 

Ocean-deeps  lament  ; 

Hades'  darksome  subterranean  cave  resounds, 
And  the  holy  river-sources   mourn  his  wretched 
pain. 

The  central  thought  of  this  ode  seems  to 
be :  All  mankind  mourns  for  Prome- 
theus ;  only  the  forces  of  nature  express 
sympathy  for  his  brother  Atlas. 

The  calm  dialogue  which  must  be 
considered  as  the  second  episode  of  the 
drama  opens  with  a  long  and  important 
speech  addressed  by  Prometheus  to  the 
chorus. 

SECOND   EPISODE. 

Prometheus.    Think  not  in  arrogance  or  stub- 
bornness 
I  hold   my   peace.     I   gnaw   my   heart   with 

thought, 

Seeing  myself  maltreated  as  I  am. 
And  yet,  who  else  to  these  new  gods,  save  me, 
Rendered  their  honors  altogether  sure  ? 
But  this  I  leave  untold;  for  I  should  speak 
To  you  who  know. 

But  hear  the  former  woes 
Of  mortal  men,  whom,  senseless  until  then, 
I  rendered  thoughtful,  masters  of  their  wits. 
I  '11  speak,  not  in  resentment  toward  mankind, 
But  showing  my  good-will  in  what  I  gave. 

At  first  they,  gazing,  gazed  but  fruitlessly ; 


Hearkening,  they  did  not  hear,  but,  like  the 

shapes 

Of  visions  through  an  age  that  lasted  long, 
All  things   confused.     Nor  knew  they  sunny 

homes 

Shaped  out  of  bricks,  nor  handiwork  of  wood. 
Beneath  the  earth  they  dwelt,  like  helpless  ants, 
In  the  unsunned  recesses  of  the  caves. 

This  sketch  of  primeval  man  is  said  to 
agree  wonderfully  with  the  results  of 
research  in  our  own  day. 

And  no  sure  sign  had  they  of  winter  time, 
Or  flowery  spring,  or  summer  rich  in  fruits ; 
All  things  in  utter  ignorance  they  did, 
Until  the  risings  of  the  stars  I  showed 
To  them,  and  settings  hard  to  be  discerned. 
Number,  most  shrewd  device,  I  found  for  them, 
And  letters  well  combined ;  and  memory, 
Worker  of  all  things,  mother  of  the  muse. 

I  was  the  first  who  yoked  the  beasts  to  bear 
The  collar  and  the  rider,  and  relieve 
The  race  of  mortals  from  their  heaviest  toils. 
I  harnessed  to  the  car  the  steeds  that  love 
The  rein,  the  pride  of  wealthiest  luxury. 
And  no  one  else  before  me  did  invent 
The  sea-tost,  sail-winged  craft  of  mariners. 

So  many  things  have  I  contrived  —  ah  me  !  — 
For  mortals ;  but  myself  have  no  device 
Whereby  to  free  me  from  my  present  woe ! 

The  pause  is  gracefully  contrived  in 
order  to  relieve  the  exhausted  actor.  It 
may  be  remarked  here  that  our  poet  has 
clearly  no  belief  in  a  previous  happier 
state  of  man.  Human  life  is  steadily 
improving,  and  the  higher  powers  are 
all  beneficent  and  helpful  to  us :  Prome- 
theus, with  excessive  haste  and  presump- 
tion, which  make  him  seem  very  human, 
and  bring  him  at  last  to  bitter  humil- 
iation; Zeus,  through  farther  -  reaching 
and  more  mysterious  ways. 

Chorus.    A  grievous  woe  is  thine !    Bereft  of 

sense, 

Thou  errest;  like  a  wretched  leech  fall'n  ill, 
Thou  art  disheartened,  and  canst  not  discover 
The  drugs  by  which  thou  mayst  thyself  be 

healed. 
Prometheus.    Hearing    the    rest    from   me, 

thou 'It  marvel  more, 

Learning  what  arts  and  means  I  have  devised. 
Chiefest  of  all,  if  any  one  fell  ill, 
There  was  no  remedy,  —  nor  edible, 
Nor  drink,   nor  ointment,  —  but  for  lack  of 

drugs 
They  pined  away,  until  I  showed  to  them 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


221 


The  ways  of  mingling-  gentle  curatives, 
Wherewith  from  each  disease  they  guard  them- 
selves. 

The  following  lines  touch  upon  all  the 
various  forms  of  divination  employed  by 
the  Greeks  :  partly  from  accidental  meet- 
ings, words  overheard  by  chance,  etc. ; 
partly  from  inspection  of  the  vitals  of 
animals  which  had  been  sacrificed  :  — 

And  many  means  of  divination  I 
Arranged,  and  first  from  dreams  what  must 

occur 
In   waking  hours   discerned ;    made   clear   to 

them 
Mysterious   sounds,    chance   meetings   on    the 

way. 

The  flight  of  crooked-taloned  birds  I  explained 
Exactly :  which  are  ominous  of  good, 
Which  baleful,  and  the  mode  of  life  of  each ; 
And  what  dislikes  they  have  for  one  another, 
Or  what  affections  and  companionships. 

(A   line   is   apparently  lost,  containing 
the  verb  "  I  first  interpreted.") 
The  smoothness  of  the  vitals,  and  what  tint 
They  needs  must  have  to  please  the  higher 

powers, 
The  varied  shapeliness  of  bile  and  liver. 

Burning  the  limbs  enveloped  in  the  fat, 
And  the  long  chine,  I  led  men  to  the  art 
Hard  to  discern.     And  omens  from  the  flame 
I  showed  to  them,  which  were  before  obscure. 

The  "  art  hard  to  discern "  is  the 
method  of  deciding,  from  the  appear- 
ance of  the  flame  during  the  sacrifice, 
whether  the  gods  favor  an  undertaking. 
This  bold  allusion  is  a  distinct  reminder 
by  our  poet  that  he  knows  nothing  of, 
and  wishes  us  to  ignore,  the  unworthy 
tale  of  the  deceitful  sacrifice.  Men  do, 
indeed,  says  ^Eschylus,  burn  the  bones, 
fat,  and  chine  in  the  gods'  honor,  and 
Prometheus  did  teach  us  so  to  do ;  but 
the  poet  was  mistaken  who  connected  the 
names  of  Prometheus  and  Zeus  with  a 
tale  of  petty  deception  and  ignoble  re- 
sentment wreaked  upon  the  guilty  and 
the  innocent. 

So  much  for  that.     And  then  the  benefits 
That  were  for  mortals  in  the  earth  concealed, 
Copper,  iron,  gold,  and  silver,  —  who  would  say 
That  he  before  me  had  discovered  these  ? 
None,  I  know  well,  who  would  not  vainly  prate. 


And   in  brief  words   learn  thou  at  once  the 

truth : 
All  arts  to  mortals  through  Prometheus  came. 

Toward  the  end  of  this  long  speech 
the  allegory  seems  more  transparent  than 
usual.  We  are  inclined  to  say  that  a 
mere  personification  of  human  foresight, 
and  not  a  living  divinity,  fills  the  poet's 
mind.  But  we  must  not,  for  this  reason, 
hastily  conclude  that  the  classical  dra- 
matist or  auditor  doubted  the  reality  of 
Prometheus.  For  us,  personification  is 
a  device  of  rhetoric.  To  a  savage,  to  a 
child,  and  to  the  ancient  Greek,  it  is  an 
irresistible  instinct. 

And  even  to  us,  familiarized  from 
childhood  with  the  terminology  of  ab- 
stract thought,  with  centuries  of  Puri- 
tanism behind  us,  forbidden  for  ages  by 
our  religious  teachers  to  imagine  a  mul- 
titude of  divine  beings,  or  even  to  depict 
the  Deity  under  any  form  as  an  individ- 
ual, how  real,  in  spite  of  all,  is  fickle 
Fortune,  as  she  turns  her  wheel  above 
the  staring  crowd,  or  the  little  blind  love- 
god,  with  fluttering  wings  and  quiver  full 
of  arrows ! 

It  was  hard  for  a  Greek  to  describe 
or  to  comprehend  the  development  of  an 
abstract  quality.  It  was  easy  for  him 
to  imagine  and  to  accept  a  kindly  divin- 
ity, whose  especial  task  it  was  to  inspire 
foresight  in  the  human  heart. 

^Eschyltis'  own  tendency  is  toward 
monotheism,  simply  because  he  sees  in 
the  universe  evidence  of  all-wise  and 
omnipotent  rule.  But  it  is  only  a  ten- 
dency, operating  within  a  reverent  and 
conservative  nature.  He  selects  and  in- 
terprets myths  ;  he  does  not,  like  Eurip- 
ides, quarrel  with  them.  The  minor 
characters  of  the  Pantheon  are  quite  as 
real  to  him  as  Zeus.  They  are  noble 
and  generous,  also.  Their  inferiority  is 
quite  as  much  in  wisdom  as  in  power. 
They  learn  eventually  to  fall  in  with 
Zeus'  plans,  and  to  realize  that  in  com- 
bating and  thwarting  him  they  only 
work  evil,  despite  their  good  intent. 
The  conception  of  Zeus,  in 


222 


The  Prometheus  of 


[August, 


soul  at  any  rate,  is  not  so  very  different 
from  -the  Jehovah  of  the  Hebrews. 
Like  him,  Zeus  is  resisted  for  a  time  by 
superhuman  rebels  and  sinners  as  well 
as  earthly  ones.  But  the  digression  leads 
us  too  far  from  the  dialogue. 

Chorus.    Out  of  due  season  aid  not  mortals 

now, 

Neglectful  of  thyself  in  wretchedness. 
For  I  am  hopeful  that  thou  shalt  be  freed 
Yet  from  thy  bonds,  nor  be  less  strong  than 

Zeus. 
Prometheus.    Not   so   is't   fated   that  these 

things  shall  be 

By  destiny  fulfilled.     Erst  overwhelmed 
With  countless  woes  shall  I  escape  my  bonds ; 
Craft  is  far  weaker  than  necessity. 

Cho.    Who,  then,  is  pilot  of  necessity  ? 
Prom.    The  three-formed  Fates,  and  Furies 

unforgetting. 

Cho.    And  Zeus  is  not  so  mighty,  then,  as 
they? 

But  even  the  arch-rebel  hesitates  to  an- 
swer directly  so  critical  a  question  as  this. 
His  response  is  intentionally  equivocal. 
Prom.    From   the    allotment    he    could   not 


Cho.  What  is  allotted  Zeus,  save  still  to  rule  ? 

Prom.    Be  not  importunate.   This  thou  mayst 
not  learn. 

Cho.    'Tis   something  fearful,   surely,   thou 
dost  hide ! 

Prom.    Think  ye  of  other  words.     To  utter 

this 

The  time  is  nowise  fit.     It  must  be  hid 
As  far  as  may  be  ;  for,  concealing  it, 
From  fetters  and  from  pain  I  shall  escape. 

It  will  be  remembered  that  Prome- 
theus, through  Themis,  his  mother, 
knows  that  in  some  far  future  time 
Zeus,  among  his  numberless  celestial 
and  earthly  loves,  will  be  attracted  to 
the  beautiful  Nereid,  Thetis,  who  is 
destined  to  bear  a  son  far  mightier  than 
his  father.  It  must  be  constantly  kept 
in  mind  that  this  and  other  similar 
allusions  are  overheard  by  Zeus  upon 
his  invisible  throne  on  high. 

Here  the  second  episode  closes,  if 
such  it  may  be  called  when  no  one  has 
entered  or  left  the  stage.  The  follow- 
ing choric  song  expresses  the  desire  for 
moderate  prosperity  which  is  so  charac- 


teristic of  Greek  feeling,  followed  by  a 
vivid  allusion  to  the  wretched  mortal 
race,  for  which  Prometheus  is  suffering 
such  torture :  — 


SECOND   STASIMON. 

Never  against  my  desire  may  Zeus,  the  controller 

of  all  things, 
Set  his  opposing  decree  ! 

May  I  not  fail,  by  the  father  Okeanos'1  water  un- 
resting, 
Offering  unto  the  gods 

Banquets  sacred  of  oxen  slain.     Nor  in  word  be 
my  error  ! 

May  this  by  me  be  attained;  let  it  not  vanish 
away. 

This  stanza  suggests  a  charming  pic- 
ture of  the  graceful  sea-nymphs  issuing 
from  the  waves  of  their  father's  realm, 
and  making  due  sacrifice  on  the  beach 
to  the  dreaded  higher  gods,  with  all  the 
reverent  humility  of  mortal  maidens. 
Throughout  the  play  these  daughters  of 
Tethys  are  so  delightfully  girlish  in  their 
gentle  and  almost  timid  modesty  that  we 
are  hardly  prepared  for  their  unflinch- 
ing courage  in  the  final  crisis. 

Pleasant  it  some  way  is,  through  hopes,  that  en- 
couragement bring  us, 
Longer  our  life  to  extend  ; 

Yet  do  I  shudder  with  dread,  as  I  gaze  upon 

thee,  in  thy  sorrows 
Numberless  wasting  away. 

Thou,  O  Prometheus,  fearest  not  Zeus,   but  in 
ivillful  endeavor 

Honorest  more  than  is  Jit  men  who  are  destined 
to  die. 

Lo,  how  thankless  was  thy  gift,  O  friend ! 

How  may  it  avail  ? 
From  ephemeral  men  what  aid  may  come  ? 

Hast  thou  not  beheld 
How  in  helpless,  dream-like  feebleness 
Fettered  is  the  sightless  human  race  ? 

Plans  of  mortals  nevermore 
May  the  harmony  of  Zeus  evade. 

Such  my  thoughts  as  I  thy  fatal  doom, 

O  Prometheus,  saw ; 
While  another  song  recurred  to  me : 

How  the  nuptial  hymn 
Round  about  the  bath  and  bed  I  sang, 
For  thy  marriage,  when  our  father's  child, 

Won  with  gifts,  Hesione, 
Thou  didst  lead  to  be  thy  wedded  spouse. 

William  Cranston  Laivton. 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of 


333 


chapter  of  our  histor^Hnto  vivid  remem- 
brance, had  we  not  been'Smticipated  by 
the  legislature  in  voting  a  cmc  monu- 
ment to  Attucks  and  his  associatfesruf- 
fians.  It  must  be  borne  in  mind  that  tl 
State  has  not  yet  paid  this  honor  to 
any  one  of  her  generals  or  statesmt 
the  revolutionary  epoch,  nor^et^o  An- 
drew, who  made  himsejl-^uliy  their  peer 
in  the  throesp£-"tne  country's  second 
birth.  About  the  time  when  this  public 


tribute  was  decreed  to  the  rioters  of  the 
last  century,  there  were  within  three  or 
four  miles  of  the  Stajte-itouse  two  brutal 
mobs,  profes>iftgto  hurl  stones  and 
m  championship  of  the  rights 
>r,  for  whose  leaders,  had  they 
beenNlam  by  the  police,  our  legislature 
must  in  sM^consistency  have  voted  com- 
memorative TH^mze  or  marble,  with  in- 
scriptions indicative  of  public  respect, 
reverence,  and  gratil 

Andrew  Presto  Peabody. 


THE  PROMETHEUS   OF  AESCHYLUS. 


IN  TWO  PARTS.     PART  II. 


THE  third  episode  of  the  Prometheus 
begins  with  the  sudden  and  unannounced 
entrance  of  lo.  She  is  an  innocent 
maiden,  daughter  of  Inachos,  an  Argive 
river-god.  Being  wooed  by  Zeus,  she 
excited  the  jealousy  of  Hera,  queen  of 
heaven,  whose  priestess  she  had  been. 
Hera  partially  or  wholly  transformed  her 
into  a  cow,  and  she  is  wandering  over 
the  earth,  watched  at  first,  in  Hera's  in- 
terest, by  the  monster  Argus,  with  his 
hundred  eyes ;  after  his  death,  goaded 
on  by  a  gadfly.  After  world-wide  roam- 
ing, she  is  to  reach  the  delta-land  of 
the  Nile,  where  she  will  find  rest,  and 
in  after  years  bear  to  Zeus  a  son,  Epa- 
phos. 

lo  seems,  therefore,  to  be  a  signal 
example  of  injured  innocence,  suffering 
through  the  lawless  caprice  of  Zeus. 
Prometheus  so  regards  her  ;  but  the  spec- 
tator is  aware,  and  is,  in  fact,  informed 
by  Prometheus  in  this  very  scene,  that 
her  later  life  will  be  happy  and  honored, 
and  that  she  is  to  be  "  the  mother  of  a 
mighty  race  ;  "  how  mighty  and  glorious, 
indeed,  Prometheus  little  knows.  Here 
again,  therefore,  Prometheus,  with  his 
much-vaunted  prophetic  wisdom,  is  re- 
garded by  the  poet  as  too  short-sighted 


rightly  to  measure  the  far-reaching  be- 
neficence of  Zeus. 

This  strange  character,  lo,  was  origi- 
nally, according  to  the  interpretation 
usually  accepted,  merely  the  wide-wan- 
dering moon.  The  many  watching  eyes 
of  Argus  are  the  stars  of  heaven.  What- 
ever its  starting-point,  however,  the  myth 
has  certainly  been  modified  through  the 
knowledge  obtained  by  early  Greeks  of 
the  horned  Egyptian  goddess  Isis,  and 
of  Apis,  who  appeared  in  the  form  of  a 
bull.  Indeed,  Epaphos,  the  name  of 
lo's  son,  is  stated  by  Herodotus  to  be 
merely  the  Greek  form  of  the  Egyptian 
name  Apis. 

In  Greek  works  of  art  lo  is  often 
represented  as  a  cow.  In  our  tragedy 
she  has  a  human  face  and  figure,  but  is 
horned.  The  monster  Argus  has  been 
slain  already  by  Hermes,  Zeus'  son  and 
trusty  messenger ;  but  as  this  fact  would 
tend  to  give  a  better  impression  regard- 
ing Zeus'  treatment  of  lo,  Hermes'  name 
is  here  suppressed,  for  dramatic  reasons. 

Itjnay  be  added  that  the  poet's  excuse 
for  drawing-  into  his  plot  the  pathetic 
figure  of  I<>.  which  so  effectively  height- 
ens the  momentary  impression  of  Zeus 
as  a  cruelly  unjust  tyrant,  is  that  her 


334 


The  Prometheus  of  ^Eschylus. 


[September, 


descendant  in  the  thirteenth  generation, 
Heracles,  is  to  release  Prometheus. 

THIRD    EPISODE. 

Io  (staring  wildly  about  her).     What  land, 
and  what  race  ?    Whom,  pray,  do  I  see 
Yonder,  so  curbed  in  a  bridle  of  stone 

And  beaten  by  storms  ? 
Of  what  misdeeds  does  he  suffer  the  pains  ? 

Reveal  to  me  where 
On  the  earth  I  in  misery  wander. 
Ah  me  !  ah  me ! 

In  rising  excitement,  Io  bursts  into  a 
lyric  lament  over  her  wretched  fate  :  — 

Still  the  gadfly  stings  me,  wretched  one  ! 
Avaunt !     Alas  !  with  dread 

Earth-born  Argus'  shape 
I  behold,  the  herdsman  hundred-eyed, 
Who  with  crafty  glance  doth  go, 
Whom  not  even  in  death  the  earth  conceals  ! 
In  my  misery  he  hounds  me, 
Crossing  from  the  dead  below  ; 
Drives  me  fasting  over  pebbly  beaches  ! 

The   pipe  Io  now  fancies  she  hears  is 
perhaps    a   reminiscence   of   the   music 
with  which  Hermes  lulled  Argus  into  a 
deep  sleep  before  slaying  him  :  — 
Soft  and  clear  the  well-waxed  reed  resounds 

Slumbrous  melody  ! 
Whither  do  my  wanderings  lead  me  on, 

Wanderings  afar  ? 
How,  I  pray,  O  son  of  Kronos,  how 
Hast  thou  found  me  sinful,  who  am  yoked 

Thus  to  agonies  ? 
Why  with  goading  terror  waste  away 

So  a  trembling,  frenzied  girl  ? 
Burn  me  !    Hide  me  in  the  earth  !     Or  give  me 
To  sea-monsters  for  a  prey  ! 
Do  not  grudge  for  me 
This,  O  lord,  my  prayer  ! 
Long  enough  my  wanderings  manifold 

Weary  me,  nor  can  I  learn 
Where  my  miseries  I  may  escape. 
Dost  thou  hear  the  horned  maiden's  cry  ? 

And  Prometheus  accepts  a§  an  appeal 
to  himself  what  were  really  the  closing 
words  of  lo's  prayer  to  Zeus,  and  re- 
sponds :  — 

Why  hear  I  not  the  gadfly- driven  girl, 
Inachos'  child,  who  warmed  the  heart  of  Zeus 
With  passion,  and  a  journey  exceeding-  long-, 
Hated  of  Hera,  now  perforce  completes  ? 

Io  is  amazed  at  this  familiarity  with 
her  mishaps  :  — 

Who  thou  art  who  speak"1  st  my  father's  name, 
Tell  a  wretched  one. 


Prithee,  who,  O  sufferer,  in  my  pain, 

Rightly  greets  me  thus  ? 
Thou  hast  told  my  curse,  by  gods  imposed, 
Which   doth   waste   and   goad    me  —  woe    is 
mine  !  — 

With  its  maddening  sting. 
Pangs  of  hunger  drove  me  bounding  on, 

In  my  furious  haste, 
Victim  to  the  plots  of  foes  infuriate. 

Who,  alas,  of  wretches,  who 

Suffers  like  to  me  ? 

But,  I  pray,  reveal 
Plainly  what  awaits  me  yet  to  bear  : 

What  the  limit  or  the  cure 
For  my  troubles,  if  thou  knowest,  say  ; 

Speak,  and  tell  a  wretched  wandering  maid. 

To  this  request  Prometheus  readily  ac- 
cedes, and  a  dialogue  in  calmer  tone  be- 
gins :  — 

Prometheus.    Plainly  1  '11   tell  thee  all  thou 

fain  wouldst  learn, 

Not  weaving-  riddles,  but  in  simple  speech, 
Even  as  is  right  to  unseal  the  lips  to  friends. 
Thou  seest  Prometheus,  giver  of  fire  to  men. 

The  name,  though  not  the  figure,  of  the 
devoted  lover  of  mortals  is  evidently 
well  known  to  the  Argive  girl.  She  re- 
plies :  — 

Thou  general  blessing  of  mankind,  for  what, 
Wretched  Prometheus,  art  thou  suffering  so  ? 

Prom.    I  ceased  but  now  bewailing  my  dis- 
tress. 

Io.    This  boon,  then,  unto  me  thou  wilt  not 
grant  ? 

Prom.    Speak  what   thou  wilt.      All    niayst 
thou  learn  from  me. 

Io.    Tell  who  in  this  ravine  has  bound  thee 
fast. 

Prom.    Hephaistos'  hand,  but  the  decree  of 
Zeus. 

Io.    And  for  what  sins  dost  thou  atonement 
pay? 

But  Prometheus  cannot  endure  this  rep- 
etition of  the  sea-nymph's  inquiries,  to 
which  he  has  made  full  response,  and 
curtly  answers  :  — 

So  much  alone  may  I  reveal  to  thee. 
lo's  thoughts  turn  at  once  to  the  pro- 
phetic knowledge  which  the  Titan  doubt- 
less possesses  concerning  herself :  — 

Io.   Yet  show  me,  too,  what  time  shall  be 

the  goal 
For  me  of  wandering  and  of  suffering. 

Prom.    Herein  is  knowledge  worse  than  ig- 
norance ! 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of 


335 


Io.    Pray  hide  not  from  me  what  I  must  en- 
dure. 

Prom.    This  boon,  indeed,  I  do  not  envy  thee. 

Io.    Why  dost  thou  hesitate  to  utter  all  ? 

Prom.    I  grudge  not,   but  am  loath  to  vex 
thy  soul. 

Jo.  Shield  me  not  more  than  I  myself  desire. 

Prom.    Since  thou  art  eager,  I  must  speak : 

attend ! 

But  here  the  leader  of  the  chorus  inter- 
rupts Prometheus,  and  insists  that  lo's 
previous  mishaps  be  first  narrated.  In 
general,  the  reader  will  admire  the  skill 
with  which  the  long  story  of  Io  is  divided 
and  taken  up  into  the  dialogue,  instead 
of  being  permitted  to  detach  itself  from 
the  drama  proper,  like  the  long  speeches 
of  Euripides'  messengers.  In  such  mat- 
ters JEschylus  by  no  means  seems  to  ^f  do 
right  without  knowing  why,"  as  Sopho- 
cles is  stated  to  have  remarked.  It  is 
rather  the  elaborate  skill  of  an  artist 
fully  conscious  of  his  art. 

Chorus.    Not  yet!     Accord   me  too  in  that 

delight 

A  share.     Her  troubles  first  let  us  inquire, 
While  she  narrates  to  us  her  weary  fate. 
Her  later  toils  let  her  be  taught  by  thee. 

Prom.    Io,  to  gratify  them  is  thy  task  ; 
The  more  as  they  are  sisters  of  thy  sire. 

(Again  ^Eschylus  follows  the  Theogony 
of  Hesiod,  who  says  :  — 

"  Tethys  unto  Okeanos  bore  the  eddying  riv- 
ers." 

Hence  Inachos,  the  river-god,  lo's  fa- 
ther, is  brother  to  the  sea-nymphs,  who 
are  also  children  of  the  same  parents. 
It  may  be  remarked,  however,  that  lo's 
nature,  and  also  her  former  life  in  her 
father's  home,  seem  to  be  described 
quite  as  if  she  were  a  mere  mortal 
maiden.) 

For  to  bewail  and  mourn  our  destiny, 

When  we  are  likely  to  obtain  a  tear 

From  those  who  listen,  well  repays  the  time. 

Io.    I  know  not  why  I  should  not  trust  in  you, 
And  you  shall  hear  all  that  which  you  desire, 
In  simple  speech.     I  grieve  even  while  I  tell 
How  on  me,  in  my  wretchedness,  there  came 
This  heaven-sent  tempest,  and  my  loss  of  form. 

For  nightly  visions,  haunting  evermore 
My  maiden-chamber,  with  their  gentle  words 
Enticed    me  :     ' '  Wherefore,    O   most  blessed 
maid, 


Dost  tarry  long  a  virgin,  when  thou  mayst 
The  loftiest  nuptials  gain  ?    For  Zeus  is  struck 
By  passion's  dart,  through  thee,  and  fain  would 

join 
With  thee  in  love.     And  spurn  not,  girl,  the 

couch 

Of  Zeus,  but  to  the  fertile  mead  go  forth 
Of  Lerne,  to  thy  father's  flocks  and  stalls, 
And  sate  the  eye  of  Zeus  of  his  desire.' ' 

And  with  such  visions  every  night  was  I, 
Poor  wretch,  encompassed,  till  I  dared  to  tell 
My  sire  what  dreams  in  darkness  came  to  me. 
And  he  to  Pytho  and  Dodona  sent 
Repeated  messengers,  to  learn  what  he 
Must  do  or  say  to  please  the  powers  divine. 

(Pytho  is  the  original  name  of  Delphi. 
Dodona  is  a  still  more  ancient  oracle  of 
Zeus,  among  the  oak-groves  of  Epirus.) 

They  came  reporting  dubious  oracles, 
111  understood,  mysteriously  phrased. 

At  last  arrived  an  utterance  distinct, 
That  speaking  plainly  enjoined  on  Inachos 
To  thrust  me  from  my  home  and  fatherland 
To  wander  far  on  earth's  remotest  bounds. 
If  he  would  not,  the  fiery  bolt  from  Zeus 
Would  come,  and  utterly  destroy  his  race. 

Urged  on  by  such  replies  of  Loxias, 
He  drove  me  forth  and  barred  me  from   his 

home, 

Against  his  will  and  mine.     The  curb  of  Zeus 
Forced  him  by  violence  to  do  the  deed. 
Straightway  distorted  were  my  form  and  mind- 
Horned,  as  ye  behold  me,  goaded  on 
By  the  shrill  gadfly,  with  a  frantic  bound 
I  darted  toward  Kerchneia's  current  sweet, 
And  Lerne 's  source.     Insatiate  in  his  rage, 
The  earth-born  herdsman,  Argus,  followed  me, 
Watching  with  countless  eyes  the  paths  I  trod. 
But  unexpectedly  a  sudden  fate 
Bereft  him  of  his  life  ;  yet,  gadfly-driven, 
I  wander,  scourged  of  gods,  from  land  to  land. 

Thou  hearest  what  has  been.     If  thou  canst 

tell 

What  toils  remain,  speak  out !  Nor,  pitying  me, 
Console  me  with  untruthful  words.     A  bane 
Most  shameful  do  I  call  deceitful  tales. 

The  sea-nymphs'  sympathies  are  deep- 
ly stirred  by  lo's  pathetic  story,  and 
they  cry  out  in  excited  tones  :  — 

Ah  me  !    Ah  me  !    Befrain  !  Alas  ! 
Never  had  I  prayed  that  alien  words 

To  my  ears  should  come, 
Nor  that  sorrows,  griefs,  and  terrors 

Hard  to  see  and  hard  to  bear, 
With  their  goad  two-edged  should  chill  my  soul. 

Destiny,  destiny  !     Woe  is  me  ! 
*         Shuddering  on  lo'sfate  I  look  ! 


336 


The  Protnetheus  of  JEscJiylus. 


[September, 


The  uncomplaining  sufferer  upon  the 
cliff  says  calmly  :  — 

Beforehand  thou  dost  groan,  and  full  of  fright 
Art  thou  ;  but  hold,  until  the  rest  thou  hear. 
Cho.   Speak  thou,  explain.     To  those  in  trou- 
ble, sweet 
It  is  to  know  in  full  the  pain  to  come. 

The  curiosity  of  the  ocean-nymphs  con- 
cerning lo's  previous  experiences  being 
fully  gratified,  Prometheus  takes  up  the 
tale  of  her  later  wanderings.  Address- 
ing first  the  chorus,  he  begins  :  — 

Lightly  your  former  wish,  at  least,  have  ye 
Obtained  from  me  ;  for  first  ye  craved  to  hear 
While  she  related  all  her  own  distress. 
Now  hearken  to  the  rest :  what  sufferings 
This  girl  at  Hera's  hand  must  yet  endure. 
( To  lo. )    Inachos'  child,  take  thou  to  heart 

my  words, 

That  thou  mayst  wholly  learn  thy  journey's 
goal. 

The  vague  geographical  ideas  embodied 
in  the  following  account  of  lo's  adven- 
tures were  doubtless  derived  from  the 
Greeks,  who  had  established  trading- 
posts  in  the  Crimea  and  upon  the  neigh- 
boring shores  of  the  Black  Sea.  Stu- 
dents of  Herodotus  will  be  frequently 
reminded,  during  this  whole  scene,  of 
his  later  and  somewhat  more  accurate 
accounts. 

From  here,  first,  toward  the  risings  of  the  sun 
Turn  thou,  and  tread  across  the  fields  untilled. 
Thou  'It  reach  the  nomad  Scythians,  who  aloft 
In  wicker-huts  on  well-wheeled  wagons  dwell, 
Equipped  with  bows,  and  arrows  flying  far. 
Approach  them  not,  but,  keeping  close  thy  feet 
To  the  sea-beaten  coast,  pass  through  the  land. 

And  on  the  left  hand  dwell  the  Chalybes, 
Workers  of  iron,  whom  thou  needs  must  shun. 
Untamed  are  they,  unfriendly  unto  guests. 
Thou  'It  reach   the   Hybristes   River,  rightly 
named. 

(That  is,  River  of  Outrage.) 

This  cross  not,  —  for  't  is  difficult  to  ford,  — 
Until  the  highest  Caucasus  itself 
Thou  nearest,  where  the  river  bursts  in  might 
From  the  rock's  face.     The  summits,  near  the 

stars, 
Thou  needs  must  climb,  and  southward  turn 

thy  way. 

Then  to  the  host  of  Amazons  thou  'It  come, 
Haters  of  men,  who  shall  hereafter  dwell 


By  the  Thermodon  at  Themyskyra. 
There  is  the  cruel  Salmydessian  strait, 
Unkind  to  sailors,  step-mother  of  ships. 
They  will  be  guides  for  thee  right  joyfully. 

Io,  it  appears,  can  safely  trust  the  wo- 
manly feeling  of  the  Amazons.  Inci- 
dentally, JEschylus  endeavors  to  rec- 
oncile the  accounts  which  placed  this 
mythical  race  near  the  river  Thermo- 
don, in  Northern  Asia  Minor,  -with  the 
less  familiar  legend  which  located  the 
nation  of  warrior  women  about  the  Sea 
of  Azof.  For  this  is  the  evident  object 
of  the  prophecy  of  a  migration  in  later 
times,  a  matter  of  no  concern  to  Io  or 
the  daughters  of  Okeanos. 

And  now  at  the  sea's  narrow  gates,  thou  'It 

come 

To  the  Kimmerian  isthmus.     Fearlessly 
Leave  this,  and  traverse  the  Maeotian  strait. 
The  story  of  thy  passage  shall  be  famed 
Among  mankind  forever.     Bosporus 
Shall  it  be  called.     But  leaving  Europe's  plain, 
Thou  'It  reach  the  Asian  mainland. 

(The  Bos-poros,  "cow-ford  "  according 
to  the  popular  but  probably  erroneous 
etymology,  is  the  channel  just  east  of 
the  Crimea,  and  is  regarded  by  the  dra- 
matist as  the  boundary  between  the  con- 
tinents. All  the  regions  heretofore  men- 
tioned are  to  be  assigned  to  Europe.) 

Here  the  poet  avails  himself  of  the 
opportunity  for  a  natural  pause. 

Dost  thou  deem 

The  king  of  gods  in  all  his  acts  alike 
Lawless  ?     He  wished,  a  god,  to  join  to  him 
This  mortal,  and  such  wanderings  has  imposed  ! 
A  bitter  suitor  for  thy  wedlock  thou 
Hast  found,  O  girl !  for  what  thou  now  hast 

heard 

Consider  hardly  as  the  prelude  yet ! 
Io.    Oh,  woe  is  me ! 
Prom.    Thou  criest  again,  and  deeply  groan- 

est?     What 

When  thou  hast  learned  the  evils  that  remain  ! 
Cho.    Wilt  thou,  pray,  tell  her  more  of  trou- 
bles yet  ? 

Prom.    A  harsh  and  stormy  sea  of  fatal  woe ! 
Io.    What  profits,  then,  my  life  ?     Why  did 

I  not 

Cast  myself  down  at  once  from  this  rude  crag, 
Earthward  to  plunge,  and  gain  from  all  my 

toils 

Release  ?     Far  better  is  it  once  to  die 
Than  all  our  days  to  suffer  wretchedly. 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of  ^Eschylus. 


337 


There  is  both  pity  and  disdain  in  the 
Titan's  tone,  as  he  contrasts  her  repining 
and  his  own  stoicism  ;  his  centuries  of 
agonizing  torture  and  her  briefer  pilgrim- 
age, with  peace  and  glory  assured  to  her 
beyond  it  :  — 

Prom.    Truly  thou  wouldst  endure   my  ag- 
ony 

But  weakly,  who  am  destined  not  to  die, 
For  that  were  an  escape  from  wretchedness. 
And  now  there  is  no  limit  set  for  me 
Of  miseries,  ere  Zeus  shall  fall  from  power. 

This  allusion  arouses  lo's  curiosity,  and 
thus  the  dialogue  turns  naturally  to  a 
different  theme :  — 

Io.   Could  Zeus,  then,  be  deprived  of  sover- 
eignty ? 
Prom.    Thou  wouldst   rejoice,   methink^,  to 

see  that  chance. 

Io.   Why  not,  since  I  from  Zeus  am  suffer- 
ing wrong  ? 
Prom.    Then  mayst  thou  learn  from  me  that 

this  is  true. 
Jo.   Who  shall  his  royal  sceptre  wrest  from 

him? 
Prom.   He,  from  himself,  by  empty-minded 

plans. 
Io.    How  ?     Tell  us,  if  no  harm  thereby  is 

done. 
Prom.    He  makes  a  marriage  which  he  yet 

shall  rue. 
Io.    Divine  or  human  ?     Say,  if  thou  mayst 

speak. 
Prom.    Why  ask  with    whom  ?     This    may 

not  be  revealed. 
Io.    Shall  he,  pray,  lose  his  throne  through 

her  he  weds  ? 
Prom.    A  son  she  '11  bear,  more  mighty  than 

his  sire. 
Io.    Is   there   no   rescue   from   this   lot   for 

him? 

This  much,  then,  Zeus  also  doubtless 
hears  ;  but  the  most  important  word  of 
all,  the  name  of  the  fatal  bride,  Prome- 
theus is  too  crafty  to  utter.  His  next 
remark  so  astonishes  Io  that  she  inter- 
rupts it  midway  :  — 

Prom.    None,  unless  I  myself,  released  from 

bonds  — 
Io.    Who  shall  release  thee  against  the  will 

of  Zeus  ? 

Prom.    This  falls  to  one  of  thy  posterity. 
Io.    What !   shall    a  son  of    mine  free    thee 

from  ills  ? 

Prom.    In  the  third  generation  after  ten  ! 
VOL.    LXII. — NO.    371.  22 


Io.    (after  a  pause).     The  prophecy  still   is 
hard  to  understand. 

Prom.   And  do  not  seek  to  learn  of  all  thy 
griefs. 

Io.    Proffer  me  not  the  boon,  and  then  with- 
hold ! 

Prom.    Of  utterances  twain  I  '11  grant  thee 
one. 

Io.    Tell   me  of  what,  and  give  to  me  the 
choice. 

Prom.    I  grant  it.     Choose  if  I  shall  plainly 

tell 
Who  will  release  me,  or  thy  latter  woes. 

There  seems  to  be  no  serious  meaning 
in  this  choice  offered  by  Prometheus. 
Indeed,  he  readily  consents  to  satisfy  the 
curiosity  of  the  chorus  in  both  matters. 
The  identity  of  Thetis  is  not,  however, 
indicated  by  Prometheus  at  any  later 
point  in  the  play,  though  that  is  what  is 
here  promised.  Io  is  too  excited  by 
her  own  coming  miseries,  of  which  she 
is  presently  informed  still  more  in  de- 
tail, to  tarry  and  listen  to  other  words, 
and  the  entrance  of  Hermes  soon  after 
put  an  end  to  all  confidential  talk.  This 
passage  indicates  that  Prometheus'  cau- 
tion is  deserting  him. 

Cho.    Bestow  on  her  the  one,  the  other  grace 
On  me,  and  do  not  disregard  my  words. 
Relate  to  her  the  wandering  yet  in  store, 
To  me  thy  rescuer.      This  is  my  desire. 

Prometheus.    Since  ye  are  eager,  I  will   not 

resist, 
But  utter  all,  so  much  as  ye  have  craved. 

Thy  mazy  wanderings,  Io,  first  I  tell. 
On  thy  heart's  mindful  tablets  this  engrave. 

Passing  the  stream  that  parts  the  continents, 
To  the  sun-trodden  flaming  Orient 

The  stream  meant  is  of  course  the  Kim- 
merian  Bosporus,  where  the  thread  of 
the  narrative  was  broken  before.  But 
just  here,  lines,  perhaps  even  pages,  of 
the  libretto  are  missing.  After  the  gap 
we  find  Io  in  a  purely  fabulous  region, 
probably  imagined  by  the  poet  as  in  the 
southeast  quarter  of  the  earth. 

Crossing  the  roaring  sea,  until  thou  reach 
Kisthenfe'a  plains  Gorgonean,  where  abide 
The  Phorkides,  three  venerable  maids, 
Like  unto  swans,  who  have  one  eye  for  all, 
A  single  tooth  ;   whom  neither  with  his  rays 
The  sun  doth  look  on,  nor  the  nightly  moon. 


338 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


[September, 


And  near  them  are  the  winged  sisters  three, 
The    Gorgons,    serpent  -  locked,    abhorred    of 

men, 

Whom  never  mortal  sees  and  keeps  his  breath. 
Such  as  I  tell  thee  are  the  guardians  there. 

But  hearken  to  another  hateful  sight. 
Against  the  voiceless,  keen-fanged  hounds  of 

Zeus, 

The  griffins,  guard  thee,  and  the  one-eyed  host 
Of  Arimaspian  horsemen,  who  abide 
By  the  gold-flowing  source  of  Pluto's  stream ; 
Approach  them  not. 

The  farthest  land  thou  'It  reach, 
And  a  black  race,  who  near  to  Helios'  springs 
Inhabit,  where  the  river  Aithiops  is. 

This  river  Aithiops  (that  is  Niger,  Black) 
is  shown  by  the  context  to  be  merely 
the  upper  course  of  the  Nile,  which  the 
ancients  believed  took  its  rise  in  the  Far 
East.  Even  Alexander  and  his  follow- 
ers fancied  the  Hydaspes  was  the  upper 
portion  of  the  Nile !  The  latter  name 
was  especially  applied  to  the  stream 
from  the  last  cataract  downward. 

Creep  by  his  banks,  till  to  the  cataract 
Thou  comest,  where  the  Nile  his  current  sweet 
And  holy  from  the  Bybline  mountains  sends. 
He  '11  lead  thee  to  the  land  triangular, 
Neilotis,  where  the  distant  colony 
Thou,  lo,  and  thy  children  are  to  found. 
If  aught  hereof  is  dark  or  hard  to  guess, 
Ask  yet  again,  and  clearly  learn  the  whole. 

The  chorus  again  reminds  Prometheus 
of  his  promise  to  reveal  whom  Zeus  will 
be  tempted  to  wed,  but  their  words  serve 
merely  to  afford  a  moment's  rest  to  the 
exhausted  protagonist. 

Cho.   If    thou    hast    aught,    remaining    or 

passed  by, 

To  tell  her  of  her  fateful  wanderings, 
Speak.     But  if  all  is  said,  then  grant  us  too 
The  grace  we  seek  and  thou  rememberest. 
Prom.   She  has   heard  the   goal  of   all   her 

journey;  yet 

That  she  may  know  she  hearkens  not  in  vain, 
What  she  has  suffered  ere  she  hither  fared 
I  '11  tell,  to  prove  the  truth  of  mine  account. 
The  greater  mass  of  words  will  I  omit, 
And  reach  at  once  her  wanderings'  very  close. 

Accordingly,  Prometheus  does  not  tell 
how  lo  passed  from  her  Argive  home  to 
Epirus.  The  Suppliants,  the  only  ex- 
tant drama  of  ^Eschylus  which  has  not 
been  already  mentioned  in  the  present 


essay,  deals  with  the  fortunes  of  lo's 
descendants,  the  Danaides.  The  tale  of 
their  ancestress'  wanderings  is  taken  up 
in  a  choral  ode  of  the  play,  but  the 
account  cannot  be  reconciled  with  the 
present  one,  nor  will  it  serve  to  fill  the 
gap  at  this  point. 

For   when   thou   hadst   approached  Molossian 

lands, 

And  steep  Dodona,  where  is  the  abode 
And  oracle  also  of  Thesprotian  Zeus, 
And,  marvel  past  belief,  the  talking  oaks, 
(By  which  thou  plainly,  not  in  riddles,  wert 
Saluted  as  the  illustrious  spouse  of  Zeus,) 
Then,  gadfly-driven,  thou  didst  rush  along 
The  seaside  road  to  Rhea's  mighty  gulf, 
And  thence  returning  now  art  tempest-tost. 

Rhea's  gulf  is  the  Adriatic.  By  "  re- 
turning "  can  only  be  meant  turning  in- 
land again  from  the  sea,  or  perhaps 
facing  about  eastward  toward  Prome- 
theus' place  of  torture. 

In  time  to  come  shall  that  sea-gulf  be  called, 
Know  well,  Ionian ;  a  memorial 
Unto  all  mortals  of  thy  wanderings. 

An  ancient  writer  is  rarely  fortunate  in 
his  ventures  into  etymology.  The  Adri- 
atic was  called  the  Ionian  gulf,  it  is  true, 
but  not  from  lo. 

This  of  my  wisdom  is  a  proof  to  thee, 
Which  more  than  is  apparent  doth  behold. 
The  rest  to  you  and  her  at  once  I  '11  tell, 
Returning  to  the  track  of  former  words. 

Accordingly,  he  now  describes  in  some 
detail  the  fortunes  of  lo  after  reaching 
the  delta,  and  of  her  posterity :  — 

Canobos,  outmost  city  of  the  land, 
Lies  at  the  mouth  and  margin  of  the  Nile. 
And  there  will  Zeus  restore  thy  mind  again, 
Touching  thee  only  with  a  hand  unfeared. 
And  thou  shalt  bear  —  from  Zeus'  begetting 

named  — 

Dark  Epaphos,  who  will  harvest  all  the  land 
That  Nile  with  widening  current  overflows. 

^Eschylus  fancies  the  name  Epaphos  is 
derived  from  a  Greek  verb  (e7ra<£io-Kto), 
meaning  to  touch  caressingly. 

Fifth  in  descent  from  him,  a  female  brood 
Of  fifty  children  shall  unwilling  come 
To  Argos,  fleeing  marriage  with  their  kin, 
Their  cousins.     But  the  suitors,  mad  at  heart. 
As  hawks  that  follow  close  upon  the  doves, 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of  JEschylus. 


339 


Shall  come  to  hunt  the  marriage  which  shall 

not 

Be  won.     A  god  shall  grudge  them  even  life. 
Pelasgia  shall  receive  the  maids  ;  the  youths 
In  deadly  strife  with  women  shall  be  quelled, 
Wakeful  and  bold.     His  bride  of  life  shall  rob 
Each    man,   and    dip    in  blood  the    two-edged 

sword. 
—  So  to  my  foes  may  Aphrodite  come  ! 

The  last  line  is  a  fierce  curse  uttered 
by  the  tortured  Titan,  as  he  thinks  of 
the  similar  danger  to  be  brought  upon 
his  own  arch  enemy  through  wedlock. 
The  incidents  here  alluded  to  occurred 
to  the  daughters  of  Drinaus,  and,  as  has 
been  already  mentioned,  are  treated  in 
part  by  ^Eschylus  in  his  early  drama, 
the  Suppliants. 

But  yet,  one  bride  shall  love  beguile  to  spare 
Her  spouse,  and  dull  the  edge  of  her  intent ; 
And  this  alternative  will  she  prefer, 
A  coward  to  be  called,  not  murderess. 
In  Argos  she  shall  bear  a  kingly  race. 
To  tell  this  clearly  would  much  speech  require  ; 
But  from  her  seed  shall  spring  a  valiant  one, 
Famed  with  the  bow  ;  and  he  from  this  dis- 
tress 

Shall  free  me.     Such  a  prophecy  to  me 
My  Titan  mother,  ancient  Themis,  gave  : 
But  how,  or  where,  long  time  't  would  need  to 

tell, 
And  it  will  nothing  profit  thee  to  learn. 

It  is  an  interesting  question  —  and 
one  of  the  utmost  importance  in  the 
tragic  plot  —  just  how  much  Prome- 
theus is  supposed  to  know  in  regard  to 
his  own  future  destiny.  It  is  tolerably 
clear  from  the  present  passage  that  he 
has  no  unlimited  prophetic  insight  of  his 
own,  but  has  simply  been  informed  by 
Themis  of  the  events  to  which  he  here 
alludes.  He  probably  does  not  even 
know  whether  Zeus  will  actually  escape 
the  danger  menacing  him  through  Thetis 
or  not.  He  apparently  supposes  that 
his  own  release  through  the  agency  of 
Heracles  is  to  be  a  confession  of  error 
and  injustice  on  Zeus'  part,  and  perhaps 
expects  still  to  be  free  to  save  the  king 
of  gods  from  ruin,  or  to  keep  silence, 
at  his  own  pleasure.  Such  questions 
are  involved  in  some  doubt,  because  we 
have  lost  the  other  plays  of  this  trilogy. 


lo  now  relapses  into  the  frantic  con- 
dition in  which  she  arrived  at  the  be- 
ginning of  the  scene,  and  with  these 
wild  words  she  rushes  away  upon  her 
long  journey  :  — 

Woe  is  me  !     Woe  is  me  ! 
The  spasm  again  and  the  madness  wild 
Are  burning  me,  and  the  unforged  dart 

Of  the  gadfly  stings ! 
My  heart  in  terror  is  smiting  my  breast ; 
Mine  eyes  are  rolling  as  whirls  a  wheel. 
Now   forth   from   my   course   on   the   furious 

breath 

Of  frenzy  I  rush,  not  ruling  my  tongue  ; 
And  at  random  are  striking  the  gloomy  words 
On  the  hateful  billows  of  Ate  ! 

[Exit. 

This  closes  the  third  and  last  episode. 
The  third  Stasimon  is  a  fervent  prayer 
of  the  sea-riymphs  to  be  spared  such  a 
lot  as  lo's :  — 

THIRD    STASIMON. 

Chorus.    Wise,  ah,  truly  wise  was  he 
Whoso  first  in  thought  did  ponder  icdl 
And  in  language  told  the  tale, 
That  an  equal  match  is  better  far. 
Not  with  them  that  in  their  wealth  delight, 
Nor  with  those  exalted  by  their  birth, 
Should  the  humbler  one  desire  to  wed. 

Never,  nevermore,  I  pray, 

May  ye,  Moirai,  see  me  drawing  near, 

As  his  bride,  the  couch  of  Zeus. 

May  I  no  Uranian  suitor  wed  ! 

Jo's  unbeloved  virginity, 

Shuddering,  utterly  devoured  I  see 

By  far- wandering  toils,  from  Hera  sent! 

Not  of  wedlock  in  an  equal  station, 

Free  from  terrors,  is  my  dread  ; 

But  lest  Passion  from  the  gods  supernal 

Gaze  on  me  with  eye  that  none  may  shun  ! 

This  a  war  is,  not  to  be  contested, 

Working  what   may  not  be   wrought  !    I  know 

not 

What  my  fate  may  prove  !     Nor  can  I  see 
Whither  I  the  craft  of  Zeus  might  fly  I 

In  the  first  portion  of  the  Exodos  the 
sea-nymphs  and  Prometheus  are  alone. 
The  latter  is  so  excited  by  the  scene 
with  lo  that  he  now  breaks  forth  into 
words  even  more  rash  and  presumptu- 
ous than  heretofore. 


340 


The  Prometheus  of 


[September, 


EXODOS. 

Prom.    Zeus  surely,  though  so  arrogant  of 

soul, 

Shall  yet  be  humbled  ;  such  a  marriage  he 
Devises,  which  will  cast  him  forth  from  power 
And  throne  into  oblivion.     Kronos'  curse 
Shall  even  then  completely  be  fiilfilled, 
Uttered  as  from  his  ancient  throne  he  fell. 

A  refuge  from  these  woes,  except  myself, 
None  of  the  gods  could  clearly  show  to  him. 
I  know  the  means  and  way.     So  let  him  sit 
Secure,  and  trust  his  thunder  high  aloft, 
Brandishing  in  his  hands  the  fiery  bolt. 
For  these   may   naught    avail,    but   he   shall 

fall,  —  ' 

A  shameful  fall,  and  unendurable. 
So  great  a  foe  he  now  himself  prepares 
Against  himself,  most  dread,  invincible. 
The    following   lines    refer   to    the    son 
whom  Thetis  would  bear,  if  wedded  to 
a  divinity :  — 

He  shall  a  stranger  flame  than  lightning  find, 
A  roar  which  thunder  mightily  excels  : 
And  this  shall  rout  the   pest  that   shakes  the 

earth, 
The  trident  of  the  sea,  Poseidon's  spear. 

The  allusion  to  the  trident  is  out  of 
place  here,  as  Poseidon  has  not  been  re- 
ferred to  until  now.  These  lines  are,  in 
fact,  a  clear  reminiscence  of  the  passage 
cited  from  Pindar's  ode  early  in  the 
present  essay,  in  which  Themis  warns 
Zeus  and  Poseidon  not  to  wed  Thetis. 
Though  ^Eschylus  transfers  the  custody 
of  this  secret  to  Prometheus,  and  leaves 
Poseidon  quite  out  of  the  tale,  he  can- 
not refrain  from  borrowing  this  striking 
poetic  passage. 

Unto  this  evil  fallen,  Zeus  shall  learn 
How  wide  are  power  and  slavery  apart. 

Chorus.    'Tis  but  thy  wish  for  Zeus   thou 

utterest ! 
Prometheus.    Both  what  shall   be,   and   my 

desire,  I  tell. 
Cho.    Ought  we  to  look  for  one  to  master 

Zeus? 
Prom.    And  harder  tasks  than  mine  shall  he 

endure ! 

Perhaps  the  sea-nymph  gives  a  timid 
glance  skyward,  as  she  replies  :  — 

How  dost  thou  fear  not,  uttering  such  words  ? 
Prom.    What  should  I  dread,  who  am  not 

doomed  to  die  ? 
Cho.   Yet  he  might  give  thee  bitterer  tasks 

than  these. 


Prom.    So  let  him  do.     All  is  by  me  fore- 
seen. 

Cho.    They  who  to  Adrasteia  bow  are  wise ! 
Prom.    Revere  !    Adore  !    Fawn  on  the  ruler 

still! 

But  less  than  naught  is  my  regard  for  Zeus. 
Let  him  for  this  brief  season  act  and  reign 
As  he  desires.     He  rules  not  long  the  gods. 

Certainly  at  this  point  in  the  tragedy 
no  ancient  auditor  could  escape  the  con- 
viction that  Prometheus  is  fatally  in  the 
wrong.  This  last  prophecy  is  not  only 
impious,  but  untrue,  thus  at  once  falsi- 
fying his  vain  boast,  — 

All  is  by  me  foreseen. 

Even  the  sympathy  which  was  excited 
by  his  awful  suffering  is  largely  alien- 
ated just  now  by  this  rude  outburst 
against  his  gentle  and  devoted  friends. 
The  dramatist  makes  us  see  the  truth 
concerning  his  hero  just  before  the  final 
catastrophe.  Prometheus'  next  words 
announce  the  beginning  of  the  end :  — 

But  yonder  I  descry  Zeus'  courier, 
Who  is  the  youthful  tyrant's  messenger. 
Surely  to  bring  new  tidings  he  is  come. 

Hermes  now  enters,  doubtless  descend- 
ing from  above.  He  haughtily  addresses 
Prometheus :  — 

Thou  wondrous  wise,  exceeding  bitter  one, 
Who  wrong' st  the  gods,  bestowing  gifts  upon 
Ephemeral  men,  —  the  theft  of  fire  I  mean,  — 
The    father   bids    thee    make    that    marriage 

known, 
Vaunted  of  thee,  through  which  he  falls  from 

power. 

And  this  not  enigmatically  speak, 
But  all  the  truth.     On  me  do  not  impose 
A  double  journey ;  and  thou  seest  that  Zeus 
Is  nowise  lenient  unto  deeds  like  these. 

The  heroic  rebel  hurls  back  defiance  at 
his  tormentors,  in  words  that  yet  stir 
the  pulses  of  men  who  admire  courage 
and  proud  endurance  :  — 

Pompously  mouthed,  indeed,  and  full  of  pride 
Thy  tale,  as  fits  the  servants  of  the  gods ! 
Young  are  ye,  young  your  power,  and  ye  ex- 
pect 

To  hold  your  towers  untroubled.     Have  I  not 
Beheld  two  monarchs  driven  from  them  forth  ? 
The  third,  too,  who  now  governs,  I  shall  see : 
Most  shamefully  and  swiftly !     Do  I  seem 
To  dread  and  cower  before  the  youthful  gods  ? 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of  ^Eschylus. 


341 


Nay,  far  indeed  from  that  am  I ! 

And  thou, 
Speed    hack    a^aiii   the    road  which   thou  hast 

eonie. 
Naught  shalt  thou  learn  whereof  thou  ques- 

tionest  me. 
Hermes.    Even   before,    by  wisdom   like   to 

this, 

Amid  these  tortures  thou  hast  anchored  thee  ! 
Prom.    Thy  servile  duty  with  my  wretched- 
ness, 

Be  thou  full  well  aware,  I  would  not  change. 
Better,  methinks,  to  serve  this  rock,  than  be 
The  trusty  messenger  of  father  Zeus ! 
So  to  insult  the  insolent  is  fit. 
Herm.    Thou  revelest  in  thy  present  lot,  it 

seems. 

Prom.   I  revel  ?     So  may  I  behold  my  foes 
Reveling :  and  of  them  I  count  thee  one  ! 
Herm.    Dost  thou   accuse  me,  too,  for  thy 

mishaps  ? 
Prom.    I  —  in   plain  words  —  hate  alf  the 

gods  whoso 
Return  me  wrongful  harm  for  benefits. 

Herm.    I  hear   thee   rave   in  frenzy  nowise 

mild. 

Prom.    Ay,  if  'tis  frenzy  to  abhor  our  foes. 
Herm.    If   fortunate,    thou  wouldst   be  un- 
bearable ! 

This  allusion  draws  a  sigh  from  the 
Titan,  for  which  he  is  taunted  by  the 
messenger  god :  — 

Prom.    Alas ! 

Herm.   That  is  a  word  Zeus  does  not  know ! 

Prom.  Time  teaches  all  things,  as  he  older 
grows. 

Herm.  But  thou  not  yet  hast  learned  to  be 
discreet. 

Prom.  Else  thee,  a  servant,  I  had  not  ad- 
dressed. 

Decidedly  worsted  in  this  verbal  fencing, 
Hermes  returns  to  his  proper  mission, 
with  the  words,  — 

What  Zeus  commands  thou  art  not  like  to  say. 
Prom.    I  should,  indeed,  return  the  thanks 
I  owe ! 

Something  in  the  bitter  mockery  of  this 
line  makes  it  cut  more  deeply  than 
the  ruder  words  before,  for  Hermes  ex- 
claims, — 

Thou  dost  revile  me,  as  I  were  a  child ! 

Prom.  Art  thou  not  childish,  and  more  fool- 
ish yet, 

If  thou  expectest  aught  from  me  to  learn  ? 
There  is  no  outrage,  no  device,  whereby 


Zeus  shall  impel  me  to  that  utterance, 
Ere  my  dishonorable  bonds  are  loosed. 

And  so,  then,  let  the  lurid  flame  be  hurled  ; 
With    white-winged    snow   and    rumblings    of 

the  earth 

Let  him  confound  and  frighten  everything. 
For  none  of  these  shall  bend  my  will  to  tell 
By  whom  he  is  doomed  to  be  cast  out  from 

power. 

The  dread  sounds  and  sights  alluded  to 
by  Prometheus  have  no  doubt  already 
begun. 

Herm.    See  now  if  this  shall  seem  to  avail 

for  thee ! 
Prom.   This  was   foreseen   and   thought  of 

long  ago. 

In  Hermes'  next  words  we  hear  some- 
thing like  a  tone  of  pity  for  the  coura- 
geous foe  :  — 

Venture,  O  rash  one,  venture  thou,  for  once, 
In  these  thy  sorrows  to  be  truly  wise. 

Prom.    Thou  wear'st  me,  like  a  wave,  with 

pleadings  vain. 

Never  suppose  that,  dreading  the  decree 
Of  Zeus,  I  would  grow  womanish  at  heart, 
And  would  beseech  that  most  detested  one, 
With  feminine  upliftings  of  the  hands, 
To  free  me  from  these  bonds !     Far,  far  from 

that! 
Herm.   Much,  yet  in  vain,  it  seems,  I  speak. 

By  prayers 

Thou  'rt  nowise  melted,  nor  made  soft  of  heart. 
Champing  the  bit,  even  as  a  colt  new  yoked, 
Thou  fightest  violently  against  the  reins. 
In  thy  weak  wisdom  thou  'rt  presumptuous ; 
For  arrogance,  in  one  not  truly  wise, 
Even  less  than  nothing  of  itself  avails. 
Bethink  thee,  if  thou  yield  not  to  my  words, 
How  great  a  storm  and  treble  wave  of  ills 
Inevitable  comes  on  thee.     For  first 
This  jagged  cleft  with  thunder  and  the  flame 
Of  lightning  shall  the  father  smite,  and  hide 
Thy  form.     An  arm  of  rock  shall  hold  thee 

fast. 

A  mighty  length  of  time  shalt  thou  complete, 
And  come  again  to  light. 

This  time  upon  Mount  Caucasus.  It  is 
not  clear  what  poetical  end  is  attained 
by  this  violent  burial  of  the  immortal 
.culprit,  and  his  resurrection,  long  after- 
ward, in  another  land.  It  appears  like 
a  desperate  device  to  reconcile  the  rival 
claims  of  two  localities,  since  either  form 
of  the  myth  was  too  widespread  to  be 
ignored.  Later  antiquity  connected  Pro- 


342 


The  Prometheus  of  jiEschylus. 


[September, 


metheus'  torture  rather  with  the  Cau- 
casus, and  in  the  poem  of  Apollonius 
Rhodius  the  Argonauts  hear  his  groans 
as  they  sail  the  Euxine. 

The  winged  hound 

Of  Zeus,  the  dusky  eagle,  ravenously 
Shall   rend   the   mighty  fragments   from   thy 

frame, 

Stealing  unsummoned  to  his  all-day  feast. 
Upon  thy  blackened  liver  he  shall  feed. 

Expect  no  limit  to  such  agony 
Until  a  god  appears  to  bear  thy  pains, 
Willing  to  rayless  Hades  to  depart, 
Amid  the  gloomy  depths  of  Tartaros. 

This  seemingly  impossible  condition  was 
to  be  fulfilled  through  the  centaur  Chi- 
ron, who,  incurably  wounded,  through 
accident,  by  Heracles'  poisoned  arrow, 
gladly  surrendered  his  immortality  to 
escape  his  pain. 

Thereon  deliberate ;  because  this  vaunt 
Is  not  invented,  but  most  truly  said. 
The  mouth  of  Zeus  knows  not  to  speak  deceit, 
But  every  word  shall  be  fulfilled.     Do  thou 
Consider  well  and  ponder ;  nor  suppose 
Willfulness  ever  better  is  than  prudence. 

Cho.    To  us  it  seems  that  Hermes  fittingly 
Has  spoken ;  for  he  bids  thee  to  put  off 
Thy  willfulness,  and  for  wise  prudence  seek. 
Obey,  since  for  the  sage  to  err  is  shame. 

The  voice  of  the  chorus,  here  as  else- 
where, must  be  accepted  as  the  general 
voice  of  the  community*  so  to  speak, 
and  approximately  as  the  voice  of  the 
poet  himself.  The  sea-nymphs  love  and 
admire  Prometheus :  they  are  ready  to 
share  all  perils  with  him ;  but  his  stub- 
bornness is  unwise,  and  his  arrogance  is 
sinful :  — 

Prom.   These  tidings  he  unto  me  proclaims, 
Who  knew  them  well ;  and  to  suffer  wrong, 
A  foe  from  foemen,  is  no  disgrace. 
Therefore  upon  me  let  there  be  cast 
The  curling  flash  of  the  forked  flame ; 
Let  the  ether  with  thunder  be  roused,  and  the 

shock 

Of  savage  winds.     May  the  blast  upstir 
From  her  foundations  the  rooted  earth. 
May  the  wave  of  the  sea,  with  its  eager  surge, 
Cover  the  paths  of  the  heavenly  stars ; 
And,  uplifting  me  aloft,  may  Zeus 
Into  darksome  Tartaros  cast  my  form, 
Into  Necessity's  merciless  whirl. 
At  least  he  will  not  destroy  me ! 


Herm.    Such   are   the   counsels   and  words, 

indeed, 
To  be  heard  from  those  who  are  smitten  in 

soul ! 

For  how  far  short  does  his  destiny  fall 
Of  frenzy  ?     How  is  it  than  madness  less  ? 
(To  the  sea-nymphs.}     But  ye,  at  least,  who 

sympathize 

In  his  calamities,  get  ye  forth 
Somewhither,  straightway,  out  of  the  land, 
For  fear  that  ye  may  be  struck  to  the  heart 
By  the  merciless  roar  of  the  thunder. 
Cho.   Speak  and  suggest  aught  else  unto  me, 
And  persuade  me  thereto ;  for  surely  the  word 
Thou  utterest  is  not  endurable. 
Why  dost  thou  bid  me  the  coward  to  play  ? 
With  him  I  would  suffer  whatever  must  be ! 
For  the  treacherous  I  have  learned  to  abhor ; 

Nor  is  there  a  vice 
That  I  more  than  this  have  detested ! 

Herm.   Why,  then,  remember  what  I  fore- 

tell; 

And  do  not,  when  hunted  by  Ate  down, 
Be  wroth  at  fate,  nor  ever  declare 
That  into  calamities  unforeseen 

Ye  of  Zeus  were  plunged. 
Not  so ;  but  ye  by  yourselves  alone. 
For  with  fullest  knowledge,  not  hastily, 

Nor  secretly, 
In  Ate's  web,  whence  none  escape, 

By  folly  shall  ye  be  entangled  ! 
Prom.   But  now,  not  merely  in  words,  but 
in  deed, 

Has  the  earth  been  tost. 
The  thunder's  sea-born  echo  roars. 
The  flashes  of  lightning,  full  of  flame, 

Are  shining  forth. 

The  whirlwinds  are  driving  the  dust  around, 
And  the  breaths  of  all  the  winds  that  blow 

On  each  other  leap, 

Revealing  the  strife  of  opposing  blasts. 
The  ether  is  with  the  sea  confused. 
Such  is  the  storm  that,  sent  from  the  lord, 
Inspiring  dread,  falls  clearly  on  me. 

O  reverend  Mother,  O  Ether  that  rolls 
The  light  that  is  common  to  everything, 
Behold  how  unjustly  I  suffer ! 

In  the  storm  which  he  himself  so 
vividly  describes,  Prometheus  sinks  from 
sight,  cliff  and  all,  and  thus  the  play 
abruptly  ends.  Hermes  has,  doubtless, 
already  withdrawn,  rising  aloft  after  his 
last  words.  The  chorus  share  Prome- 
theus' fate,  and  vanish  into  the  earth 
with  him. 

This  play,  when  originally  performed, 
was  followed  immediately  by  the  Pro- 


1888.] 


The  Prometheus  of  ^Eschylus. 


343 


metheus  Loosed.  Of  that  drama  many 
fragments  are  preserved  by  later  wri- 
ters ;  the  longest  one  through  a  metrical 
Latin  translation  by  the  orator  Cicero. 
From  these  fragments,  and  from  allu- 
sions in  the  play  we  have  just  read,  the 
outline  of  the  Prometheus  Loosed  can  be 
discerned.  The  scene  is  laid  on  Mount 
Caucasus,  thirteen  mortal  generations 
later  than  the  events  described  in  the 
Prometheus  Bound.  The  chorus  was 
composed  of  Titans  released  from  Tar- 
taros ;  their  appearance  in  freedom  on 
earth  being  in  itself  a  token  of  recon- 
ciliation, and  of  Zeus'  gentleness,  now 
that  his  throne  is  more  secure.  Heracles 
comes,  with  Zeus'  permission,  to  shoot 
the  eagle  and  release  Prometheus,  Jbut 
the  latter  must  first  promise  that  he  will 
immediately  afterward  reveal  his  fatal 
secret,  and  release  Zeus  from  this  vague 
dread.  A  complete  restoration  of  har- 
mony between  Prometheus  and  Zeus 
must  have  followed. 

In  the  most  ancient  manuscript  of 
^Eschylus'  seven  plays,  at  Florence,  is 
preserved  an  alphabetical  catalogue  of 
seventy-three  tragedies  which  were  ap- 
parently known  to  an  ancient  transcriber. 
This  tantalizing  list  includes  Prometheus 
Bound,  Prometheus  Fire-Bearer,  Pro- 
metheus Loosed.  The  order  of  mention, 
of  course,  proves  nothing ;  and,  indeed, 
we  have  positive  ancient  statements  that 
our  play  immediately  preceded  the  Pro- 
metheus Loosed.  It  is  very  generally 
accepted  that  the  three  plays  formed  an 
organic  whole.  The  prevailing  belief 
has  been  that  the  Prometheus  Fire- 
Bearer  came  first,  and  described  the 
theft  of  fire.  But  two,  at  least,  of  the 
latest  and  best  commentators,  Westphal 
and  Wecklein,  have  upheld,  very  per- 
suasively, a  different  arrangement.  They 
contend  that  our  Prometheus  does  not 

1  For  the  sake  of  completeness  it  may  be 
mentioned  that  ^Eschylus  wrote  still  a  fourth 
play  on  this  subject.  It  was  a  satyr  drama,  or 
serio-comic  afterpiece,  and  was  appended  to  a 
group  of  tragedies  upon  a  totally  different  sub- 
ject, namely,  the  trilogy  of  which  the  extant 


require,  and  hardly  permits,  a  prelimi- 
nary drama,  being  quite  self-explana- 
tory ;  and  they  assert  that  the  Fire- 
Bearer  closed  the  trilogy.  Fire-Bearer 
is  the  regular  title  of  Prometheus  in  the 
state  religion  of  Attica,  and  such  a  clos- 
ing play  might  well  have  ended  with  the 
joyful  reception  of  the  Titan  god  by  the 
Athenians  into  their  state  cult,  where  he 
had  an  honorable  place  in  close  associ- 
ation with  the  firegod,  Hephaistos. 

Curiously  enough,  only  a  single  line 
of  the  Fire-Bearer  has  been  preserved, 
and  that  one  does  not  settle  the  discus- 
sion. It  is  simply, — 

"Mute  where    'tis  fit,   and   uttering   timely 
words, ' ' 

and  is  cited  by  Aulus  Gellius. 

But  a  trivial  remark  of  the  ancient 
Greek  annotator  upon  our  play  is  very 
important  to  this  question.  Upon  line 
94  of  the  Prometheus  Bound, 

"Wasting  away  through  unnumbered  years/' 

this  scholiast  adds  :  "  For  in  the  Prome- 
theus Fire-Bearer  he  declares  himself  to 
have  been  bound  (SeSe'aSat)  thrice  a 
myriad  years."  The  use  of  the  perfect 
infinitive  is  a  distinct  proof  that  the  Fire- 
Bearer  followed  the  other  plays,  and  can 
be  avoided  only  by  supposing  that  the 
commentator's  pen  slipped,  and  that  he 
meant  to  say,  "  In  the  Prometheus 
Loosed." 

A  careful  reading  of  the  last  play  of 
^Eschylus'  great  Oresteian  trilogy,  the 
Eumenides,  in  which  the  baffled  and  en- 
raged Furies  are  conciliated,  and  finally 
take  up  their  permanent  abode  in  a  sa- 
cred cave  at  the  foot  of  the  Areopagus, 
will  give  the  reader  a  very  good  idea 
of  the  manner  in  which  JSschylus  might, 
and  probably  did,  treat  the  Prometheus 
myth  in  a  similar  final  drama.1 

But  of  one  point  we  may  in  any  case 

Persians  formed  a  part.  This  is  undoubtedly 
the  play  alluded  to  by  an  ancient  author  under 
the  title  Prometheus  Fire-Kindler.  Like  most 
of  the  satyr  dramas,  it  had  already  disap- 
peared when  the  list  of  plays  mentioned  above 
was  drawn  up. 


344 


The  Prometheus  of  ^Eschylus. 


[September, 


be  quite  certain.     Not  merely  the  supe- 
rior power,  but  the  higher  wisdom  and 

/justice,  of  Zeus  from  the  beginning 
became  evident  to  every  spectator,  as  the 
poet  believed  that  they  were  made  clear 
to  the  great  sufferer  himself.  Our  sym- 
pathies are  drawn  inevitably  to  Prome- 
theus. Indeed,  later  antiquity  doubtless 
had  the  same  feeling,  else  why  is  this 
act  of  the  great  drama,  in  which  Pro- 
metheus has  the  last  word  and  seems 
so  nearly  innocent,  alone  preserved  for 
us,  although  the  picture  of  the  Titan 
on  Caucasus,  tortured  by  the  vulture 
and  released  by  Heracles,  was  far  more 
familiar  in  ancient  literature  and  art  ? 
Doubtless  because  Prometheus  still  defi- 
ant and  confident  in  the  justice  of  his 
cause  pleased  the  later  Greeks  better  than 
the  scene  of  penitence  and  humility. 

There  is  no  especial  need  to  defend 
the  popular  Hellenic  conception  of  Zeus. 
"  Great  Pan  is  dead  !  "  and  all  the  Greek 
world  of  mythic  gods  has  crumbled  into 
nothingness  with  him.  But  ^Eschylus  is 
still  a  living  voice  among  men,  and  it 
should  not  be  forgotten  that  he  had  as 
earnest  and  unquestioning  a  faith  in  the 
eternal  goodness  and  wisdom  as  Whittier 
himself.  If  he  could  know  that  many 
of  his  noblest  and  wisest  modern  hear- 
ers bid  us  approve  and  emulate  his  defi- 
ant, unrepentant  rebel,  he  would  receive 

I  it  as  Milton  would  have  received  the 
remark  of  a  gallant  English  nobleman 
who  had  just  read  the  opening  books  of 
Paradise  Lost,  and  who,  on  being  asked 
his  opinion  of  the  Miltonic  Satan,  ex- 
claimed, "  A  mighty  fine  fellow,  and  I 
hope  he  '11  win  !  " 

The  closing  portion  of  the  fine  solilo- 
quy of  Prometheus  on  the  Rock,  written 
forty-five  years  ago  by  the  poet  Lowell, 
illustrates  the  prevailing  sympathy  and 
admiration  for  the  heroic  Titan  ;  and  it 
also  exemplifies  the  inevitable  tendency 


of  modern  man  to  turn  .such  a  concep- 
tion as  Prometheus  back  again  into  an 
allegory  :  only,  the  influence  of  Chris- 
tian thought,  directing  the  eyes  of  the 
soul  inward  upon  itself,  and  making  the 
individual  the  supreme  object  of  inter- 
est, is  at  work  here  as  everywhere. 

.   .   .   Therefore,  great  heart,  bear  up !     Thou 

art  but  type 

Of  what  all  lofty  spirits  endure,  that  fain 
Would  win  men    back  to  strength  and  peace 

through  love : 

Each  hath  his  lonely  peak,  and  on  each  heart 
Envy,  or  scorn,  or  hatred,  tears  lifelong 
With  vulture  beak ;  yet  the  high  soul  is  left ; 
And  faith,  which  is  but  hope  grown  wise  ;  and 

love 
And  patience,  which  at  last  shall  overcome. 

It  is  not  to  be  questioned  that  such 
treatment  of  Greek  myths  in  the  hands 
of  modern  men  of  genius  and  wisdom 
has  a  precious  value  of  its  own.  Often 
a  deeper  and  nobler  significance  than 
the  classic  poet  ever  dreamed  may  thus 
be  gained  for  us. 

An  elaborate  discussion  of  such  mod- 
ern poems  on  the  theme  of  the  Pro- 
methean myth  lies,  however,  wholly  be- 
yond our  present  scope.  It  is  the  single 
aim  of  this  paper  to  make  the  drama 
of  ^Eschylus  intelligible  to  a  thought- 
ful modern  reader  essentially  as  it  was 
received  by  the  poet's  contemporaries, 
so  far  as  our  fragmentary  knowledge 
makes  this  still  possible.  To  this  end, 
the  one  constant  and  unmistakable  ele- 
ment in  ^Eschylus'  creed,  as  stated  and 
illustrated  in  every  drama,  must  be  kept 
always  in  mind  :  — 

The  world  is  governed  by  infinite  wis- 
dom and  unfailing  justice.  Men  err 
fatally  who  impute  to  the  gods  the  petty 
jealousies  or  weaknesses  of  humanity. 
What  seems  to  our  eyes  injustice  is  but 
a  partial  and  distorted  view  of  the  cy- 
cle through  which  the  divine  purpose 
sweeps. 

William  Cranston  Laivton. 


JAN    12  1943 
FEB    9    i943 


2l-50w-8,'32 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY 


mmm 

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